


Subterfuge

by ElegantCatastrophe



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angsty Loki is angsty, Asgard vs. Vanaheim, BDSM, Bondage, Clone Sex, Conspiracy, Denial, Dischord, Dom/sub Play, Dominance, F/M, Fighting Feelings, Heartache, Infiltration, Inspired, Inspired by Eris, Lies, Light BDSM, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Odinson - Freeform, Loki X Original Character - Freeform, Loki x Reader - Freeform, Lust before love, Misunderstandings, More than just physical?, Mostly Reader has a nickname, Pain, Planned story, Playing nice, Plot, Potential death, Rope Bondage, Sexual Frustration, Slow burn for love, Theft, What is sleep?, Witty flirtation, candle wax, dom/dom play, fun characters, goddess of chaos, just following orders, kissing is for suckers, kneel, strong female lead, witty dialoge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantCatastrophe/pseuds/ElegantCatastrophe
Summary: Developed to be a force to infiltrate the most guarded palaces, blend with the highest of society, and take down the most powerful of adversaries; you and your team started with simple orders. Provide a demonstration that Asgard was not as secure as it thought itself to be.What you became was the instrument to take down the royal family, usurping the rule of the great realm in favor of another.When a strange relationship grows between you and the believed enemy, do you commit to your instructions or will you allow yourself to become compromised, knowing that traitors are rewarded with savagery? What if you're wrong, and nothing more existed there in the first place?Thrown into an age old feud long thought dead, you and your team play your parts as perfect pawns in a chess match bigger than yourselves. To question orders is to question sovereignty.Free thought is a dangerous thing.





	1. Eyaer

There are times in a God's life where one contemplates the weight of immortality. In concept, it always seemed grander than it was. When those who fill your world are equally as long lasting, it’s difficult to see the downsides as it bleeds into the norm. How special can it be when everyone else is gifted to some extent?

If played wisely, one could amass great wealth and knowledge by the time three generations of Midgardians had passed. That being said, taking your time was also something of a treasure in and of itself.

However, a longer life span also meant more of the same; the same traditions, the same conversations, the same people, more or less. It was difficult, downright impossible to be excited about anything anymore. At least, that’s what Loki Odinson believed.

In contrast, Thor was always easily excited. Be it the prospect of battle, learning new techniques, meeting foreign warriors, or the company of lovely women; there was always something for Thor to be excited about.

Pint after pint he drank, cheering and applauding the start of the seven night long tradition hosted by Asgard. This showcase of military strength was always Thor’s favorite part. Almost every realm of the nine had shown up to present their newest military advancements; a celebration of glory and potential alliances. The festival was meant to strengthen the bond between realms and demonstrate how impressive their standing army was against all others. A dick measuring contest between realms so to speak.

Each realm would present their best soldiers as a representation for their world. After the showcase, six days of festivities began. Though mildly enjoyable, it mostly served as opportunities for each realm to build or strengthen alliances with the others. Politics.

_Insufferable._

It was always the same, warriors of some sort with their loud shouts, excessive displays of physical power, and the scuffing of the grand hall floor that prior was so pristine you could use it as a mirror. Armor would change, faces would change, and the formations would shift, but otherwise you really only needed to see it once to get the idea. Sequels that just wouldn’t end. Lucky for the average Asgardian, they loved their sequels. This Asgardian did not.

_Pointless._

Asgard always came up on top. Asgard always would. In a sense it was the Allfather demonstrating that his domain was not to be tested. Asgard didn’t need allies for strength.

_Redundant._

“Brother, toast with us!” rang Thor's booming voice. He stood from the royal table, full stein of ale in hand and slapped his dear brother on the shoulder enthusiastically. In his excitement, the God of Thunder failed to notice how his actions caused his younger brothers carefully poured glass of mead to spill generously onto the cuff of his robes, soaking the fabric thoroughly. Brows knitted in frustration, the Prince of Lies was fighting an awful headache since the showcase started. He touched the wet cuff of his robes with reverence.

“I’ll pass,” came his delicate reply.

“Nonsense!” Thor hoisted his brother up rather unceremoniously from his seat. More mead spilled from his cup and onto his favorite garb. Ale from Thor’s glass sloshed over the rim, landing on his carefully polished shoes. Gaining his composure, the Liesmith closed his eyes and inwardly began to count to ten. He reached five when Thor yanked his arm upwards.

More mead gone. He was practically drowning in alcohol at this point and his cup might as well have been empty having never taken a sip.

“To the Valkyrie!” shouted the Thunder God, watching their display with adoration.

“To mediocrity,” echoed the God of Lies, quiet under the roar of the crowd. His eyes were still  assessing the damage to his attire.

“Hm?” remarked the eldest brother, still holding onto the arm of the unwilling participant. Thor smiled down at his younger sibling. “Did you say something?”

“To Asgard,” The Liesmith corrected, smooth with a forced smile playing on his lips. His brother foolishly mistook it for genuine.

The words acted like a trigger. Thor dropped the arm of his brother and, if possible, stood even taller and raised his glass even higher. “To Asgard!” he repeated, louder than the crowd. Every Asgardian in attendance cheered wildly in response. All except a few.

The younger Prince took the opportunity to quietly return to his seat.

_Predictable._

As the Valkyrie finished their impressive display, the Prince let his gaze wander to his father. Stoic as always but with the slightest prideful tilt to his lips.

_Pretentious._

The hall still echoed with roars and cheers from outnumbering Asgardians. Thor took his seat, still beaming. “Enjoying yourself, brother?” he asked, leaning over only slightly.

“I’m drowning in alcohol,” came his sarcastic reply.

“Isn’t it glorious!?” exclaimed the older brother.

“Not really, no.”

Thor furrowed his brows. Loki was always such a pain at parties. “Can’t you use your sorcery to dry it off?” he suggested softly.

“That’s not the point.”

Frustrated, Thor rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. “Don’t be such a bore, Loki. Look around! We’re surrounded by the greatest warriors in all the realms. Celebrate with us!”

The God of Lies ran a hand through his hair as if to push his cruel unfiltered thoughts to the back of his mind, his other hand clinging to the mostly empty cup of mead as if it was his only solace. A symbol of dignity in a world of barbarians. “We’re surrounded by repetition and mediocrity. There isn’t anything here I haven’t seen before,” he remarked, taking a sip from his dignity cup, frowning at it momentarily when he realized that’s all it contained.

“My Lords and Ladies!” came a voice that quieted the hall. The next demonstration was about to begin.

Loki leaned over to his brother, his words harsh and fueled by his anger. “This one will be no different.”

The diplomat from Vanaheim continued his introduction. “It is my greatest honor to present to you today a change of taste.”

Loki shifted back to his position, an eyebrow curiously raised despite a scowl that was still stuck firmly to his face.

“We of Vanaheim have developed a new approach to the traditional ways of combat,” the diplomat explained. “Too many skilled warriors have been wasted on wars that could be solved with a simple, single, direct strategy.” Folding his fingers together, the man looked over the crowded hall. “There are times when the rules of war must be bent, and infiltration is preferred over brute force.”

Whispers began circulating throughout the crowded hall. This change of pace seemed to catch everyone off guard. For a society built on tradition, this was certainly not what one expected.

The diplomat continued despite this, instead letting it feed into his introduction. “Developed to be a force to infiltrate the most guarded palaces, blend with the highest of society, and take down the most powerful of adversaries. They can be used to rescue captives, gather information, or assassinate targets that armies never could without unnecessary bloodshed.”

From the center of the hall, dense purple smoke started to pool. Seemingly self contained, it spilled from a center point and gently touched ground where the majority of it existed so thick it was impossible to see past. Like heavy cream it looked almost velvet to the touch. The inky cloud swirled slowly throughout the remainder of the introduction as if it had a mind of its own, dancing to a slow rhythm only it could hear. That which escaped its center gracefully hovered along the glossed, albeit slightly scuffed floors, until it reached even the audiences that rimmed the rooms grand walls. Ghosting over feet, the further out it went the more translucent it became like it wanted to taste its surroundings, become familiar.

Thors boot gave the fog a kick, upsetting the graceful blanket. Loki watched the tips of his own boots overcome with haze but was unconcerned. _Parlor tricks._

Time seemed to stop as all eyes focused on the center of the room. The cream like smoke was lifting, falling to the floor to dissolve with the rest of the surrounding fog, giving way to five individuals of various statures.

“We call them the Eyaer. Tested and perfect.”


	2. Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The younger Prince’s hand was cool to the touch; a pleasant sensation in a room warmed by bodies. His grasp was firm, but not painful. Just enough to let you know he wanted something. Green eyes shifted from your face, down your long neck, and to your exposed cleavage.
> 
> A shiver ran down your spine.

You stood amongst your comrades in a foreign environment. Eyes trained straight ahead, you felt out the room, sensing the entrances and exits, obstacles and possibilities. A few beats of silence followed, for dramatic effect of course, before Calder, the leader of your band of misfits, took over as planned.

“My Lords and Ladies, I am Calder, Captain of the Eyaer. We are humbled and honored to be in the presence of such prestige.”

To your right, your colleague Syri choked down a snicker. Your eyes darted to her slender figure, still posed just as the rest of your group was. She was trembling slightly with amusement.  

In your mind, you heard her voice rich with giggles. _“I’m sorry, but hearing Calder so formal is just too much! It’s so hard to take him seriously!”_

_“Get it together Syri,”_  you pleaded. _"_ _Please just this once. You’re going to make_ me _laugh. Then we’re done for!”_

_“Yeah, Syri, get it together!”_ echoed the mocking voice of her twin sister, Sylvi. _“We look  so cool right now. Don’t you blow it!”_ _  
_

Though she was on the opposite side of the group, the mental link you all shared let you speak in private with perfect clarity. One of Calder’s eyes twitched ever so slightly.

_“I can hear you,”_ he spoke flatly through the link.

_“You always can,”_ replied Syri with a mental shrug.

_“May I remind you that we’ve been lingering in silence for quite some time. Senator Egil will not be pleased.”_ Einar, ever the voice of reason. Without him, the link you shared would not be possible. One of his many quirks.

Calder, brushing off the earlier insult, continued as though the lengthy pause was natural. “As you have already gathered, we are a rather unorthodox addition to such an event,” he explained aloud. “But I assure you it is not without reason. If you would, we have prepared a demonstration. One that is equally as unorthodox as we are.”

Eyes shifted from the forms of your colleagues to Odins. A single nod of his head was all it took, and just as quickly all eyes were back on you.

_“Syri, control your excitement. We all must proceed with the utmost focus,”_ rang Einar’s voice within the collective. Sensing emotions, another useful trick from your favorite empath...telepath..whatever he was. Another was being able to put a ‘dampener’ on emotions, his own or others. A useful tool when they got in the way. It had it’s flaws, as all abilities seem to come with a price, so it was not preferred, but hung in the awareness like a daunting shadow.

_“I’ve got this. No need to worry,"_   boasted Syri.

Calder, ever the showman, gestured to the main doors of the grand hall. A cage big enough to hold one person comfortably was carried in by Vanaheim soldiers. Traversing across the marble floors, it was set to rest just to the right of your group, though still mostly centered in the overall picture. Within the cage was placed one single stool. The keys were left in the lock as previously instructed by your Captain. Once finished, the soldiers joined Senator Egil who, upon observation, had leaned considerably forward in his seat; eager and tense with anticipation.

The room lay mostly in silence with a few sparse whispers here and there. Nothing like this had been seen in these halls. It was, as Calder had said, unorthodox. Not entirely unwelcome; just peculiar.

Calder took a few generous steps forward, his attention cast to the royal table where Asgard's elite were situated along a lengthy banquet table. The best seats in the house to be sure.

Bowing, Calder continued the show. “Prince Thor, if you would be so kind as to assist us? We are in need of a volunteer.”

The golden haired royal, already leaning forward with his head resting on a fist, supported by a propped up elbow, seemed momentarily taken aback. More whispers from the crowd erupted at the request.

“I assure you, your Highness, no harm will come to you,” Calder explained. He gestured to either side of him. Sylvi and Syri took their cue and joined him, flanking either side of his slender figure. Their grins were shamelessly flirtatious as they settled into a pose mirroring each other like attractive bookends. “If you so choose to play along, you may just end up with more than just your ale to keep you company tonight.”

Thor tossed his head back with a hearty laugh. Instantly the tension in the room lessened. “I will play your game! With such an incentive, I would be a fool not to!”

“Wonderful! Thank you, your Highness.”

Standing, Thor took one last heavy drink from his stein.

“Your Highness,” Calder interrupted. Thor peered over the rim of his drink, quirking an eyebrow in response. Calder smiled genuinely. “You may bring your beverage. In fact, I encourage it.”

Wiping the remainder of his drink from the corners of his mouth with a fist, Thor grinned like a kid on Christmas. He made his way to the center of the room as per Calder’s implied gesture. The twins, stunning in their form fitting, alluring apparel, moved to either side of the God. They each linked an arm in his and smiled up at him, eyes half lidded and lips perfectly parted; looking like the picture of a forbidden fantasy. It was obvious Thor was having the time of his life.

“Sylvi and Syri, your Highness,” added Calder, introducing the two as they slowly started to work their magic.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Thor remarked towards the twins, still grinning from ear to ear.

From a distance, Loki rolled his eyes.

“The rules of this game are simple,” explained Calder.

Sylvi gave Thor a sweet kiss on his cheek as she unlaced her arm from his and moved towards the large cage, her hips swaying suggestively as she went. Thors eyes, much like many of the men in the room, were drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

Taking hold of the keys to the cage, Sylvi turned them and pulled the door open, stepping to the side along with it.

“Don’t put your drink on the stool,” finished Calder.

Thor regretfully pulled his eyes from the lovely specimen before him to look at your Captain. “That’s all?” he asked, “Don’t put my ale on the stool? Easy enough.”

“I’m glad you think so,” chuckled Calder. “Because if you can manage not to, you win the pleasure of their company tonight.”

With that, Syri, arms still linked in Thor's, reached up on her tiptoes and gave him a matching kiss to the other side of his face. A tinge of pink colored Thors cheeks, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol.

“What do you say?” asked Calder. “Will you play?”

“Yes, I will play your game,” remarked Thor with a determined expression.

“Then let’s begin,” Calder stepped off to the side as to not get in the way, Einar closely following behind.

You grin wickedly, body practically buzzing with excitement. In a moment that same smoke from before engulfs your slender form and, from every outsider's perspective, drops straight through the floor, you along with it. Smoke falls as fast as you do, but instead of falling through the surface below, most of it crashes along the marble and dissipates in an instant.

A collective gasp resounds throughout the hall. You were nowhere to be seen.

Only a beat later do you appear seated in Thor’s place at the royal table, with the remnants of elegant purple smoke slowly rolling off your body.

More gasps.

In your smug internal gloating of a job well done, you miss the face of the younger Prince beside you. Equal parts surprise and intrigue. Feeling eyes on you, you turn and face those mesmerizing green eyes you’ve heard so much about. You offer a playful wink in response to his gaze before turning your attention to the show before you. Picking a berry from one of the many plates on the table, you help yourself to the occasional snack.

The perks of the job.

Now that the stage was clear, the show could really begin.

“Your Highness,” Syri cooed, a playful pout on her lips. “Won’t you place your drink on the stool?” Her free hand absentmindedly began twisting a strand of the Gods golden locks between her delicate fingers. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

Thor laughed, amused. “I’m afraid not, my lady. I aim to win this game.”

“But if you do, you’ll have two hands to caress me,” she replied slyly. “Wouldn’t that be so much better than this?”

“As enticing as that sounds, the prize is far sweeter.”

“So you’re saying, no matter _what_ we do, there is no possibility of you placing your glass on the stool?” The suggestions were clear, and Thor blushed shyly, nodding his head and unable to speak.

“Sylvi,” Syri called. “I don’t think we’re going to win this time.”

Sylvi sported a pout to match her sister. Leaving the keys in the unlocked, open cage door, she sauntered over to the pair. Thor shifted nervously in response.

Mirroring her sister, Sylvi began toying with the Gods golden locks with her own fingers. Both bodies were flush against him. They sighed together, defeated. It sounded undoubtedly sexual.

“I don’t blame you,” Sylvi all but moaned.

“If we were in your position, we’d resist too,” finished Syri, matching her sister in tone.

It was most certainly awkward, watching the Crown Prince be seduced in front of a large audience comprised of various members of the surrounding realms. Thor himself was embarrassed. His mother was watching!

From the royals table, you stifled a snicker. This did not go unnoticed by the Prince of Lies.

The twins spoke together, dropping their breathy, moan laced undertones and falling into a playfully serious one instead.

“But we really must insist.”

Silence.

More silence.

_‘Three. Two. One’_ you mused, taking a bite out a delectable pastry.

“Very well. But only because you insisted!” Thor’s voice broke the silence.

More hushed voices rose from the crowd. At the royal table, Loki narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Thor loved to win. Giving up was very uncharacteristic of him.

Sylvi and Syri unthreaded their arms and clapped excitedly. “Thank you, your Highness!” chimed one. “You really are too kind!” sang the other.

With one hand each on the small of his back, they lead the God of Thunder a few steps towards the cage before sending him off on his own. Arriving at the threshold, Thor set his stein onto the stool without so much as a second thought.

Yes, this was very uncharacteristic of him indeed.

“If you please, your Highness,” began Sylvi,

“Lock the cage on your way back?” finished Syri.

Thor gave a quick smile and a small nod in acknowledgment before swiftly locking away his beloved glass of ale.

“Bring us the keys, please,” Syri requested.

“Your Highness,” added Sylvi, not forgetting to show proper reverence. Something her sister often did not.

As Thor began his short walk back to the girls, his posture seemed to shift. He seemed to walk with less confidence and instead with more tight and fluid movements. When he spoke, it was certainly his voice, but not his words. “Ladies Sylvi and Syri are enchantresses,” Thor began, addressing the crowd, sounding almost sophisticated. “They have the unique gift of manipulation, getting you to do anything they see fit. One touch is all that’s required before they can send you off of a cliff to your doom.” Thor handed the keys to Sylvi who took them with a practiced bow. He began heading back to his seat at the royal table. “Among the group, they are used to provide excellent interference and clear away any unwanted witnesses without raising alarm.” He reached the table and you stood, bowing your head as you would when encountering a royal.

Thor faced the audience. He too bowed his head only slightly towards the rest of the room. “Pardon me, I’ve forgotten my own introduction. My name is Einar. I mostly stay to the sidelines using a form of mind transference. I can allow my words to fall from the lips of those I choose, as well as control their movements and at times, their emotions as well. My primary focus is gathering intelligence as well as staging whatever scenes best suit our operation,” Thor turned his attention to the Allfather. “I assure you, your Majesty, no harm has befallen the Prince. They do not remember my presence and have no need to fear unless I decide to leave that with them.”

With that, Einars presence seemed to leave him, giving Thor his usual casual posture back again. Once more, the room fell silent as all eyes focused on the Crown Prince. Seemingly waking from a dream, he eyed his surroundings, unsure of how he got to where he was. Spying the ale in the locked cage, he frowned. Thor eyed the two temptresses. “Well played. I know not how you got your way, but I assure you I will win next time!” he turned his attention to Calder. “But perhaps, I could have my drink returned to me?”

Calder clapped his hands once, as if suddenly getting an idea. He was not. This whole ordeal was perfectly predicted and staged, but he played the part well enough. “Of course, your Highness!” he gestured to you, standing behind both Princes.

Showtime.

“Please, the last of my colleges will return it to you,” Calder explained. “My lady?”

You grinned and Einar frowned. This was supposed to be a serious demonstration. You were always so hard to control.

Once more you vanished through the floor in a puff of smoke. This time, however, you took a little something extra with you.

Reappearing in front of the locked cage, Calders dazzling smile seems to falter momentarily.

_“Tell me you didn’t, Eris,”_ he remarks through the link. Eris, the nickname given to you by your group of misfits.  Normally it was charming when they called you that, but now it just sounded reprimanding. _“Please tell me you didn’t take what I think you took.”_

_“Relax,”_ you replied.  _“This will be way better for the demonstration.”_

_“The demonstration was fine as it was!”_ he sounded almost panicked, though you wouldn’t know it from the outside. _“You need to return it!”_

_“I’m making a statement, Calder.”_

_“Not with that. You’re drawing too much attention to yourself. You were specifically told not to interact with anyone.”_

_“Trust me.”_

_“Remember the mission. We still have work to do tonight!”_

_“We’ll be fine.”_

_“ERIS!”_

You spun on your heel and produced the very item Calder was dreading. The ceremonial dagger of Prince Loki.

The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves yet again. Calder dared to look over at the Liesmith and shuddered at what he saw. Fingers threaded and raised to his lips, Loki looked more attentive now than he had been throughout the entire night's events so far. He eyes looked almost...hungry.

Satisfied by the reaction, you raised the dagger, still sheathed, and ran the hilt of it across the bars. It clanked loudly throughout the hall.

Calder pursed his lips inwardly and continued. “As you can see, my Lords and Ladies, these bars are solid.”

You smugly tuck the sheathed dagger between your breasts, letting it slide down your dress until only the tip of the hilt was visible.

Calder chanced another glance at the daggers owner. Loki’s eyes seemed to grow even darker at the action.

“We call her Eris, as she’s our little ‘ _goddess of discord_ ’!” Calder laughed, stressed out and tense beyond belief. He did his best to return to his charismatic performance. Addressing you, he spoke “Eris, would you be so kind as to return the Prince’s glass?”

“I’d be delighted,” you said with a grin. You turned back towards the cage and let your arms spread wide on either side of you. Taking two graceful steps, you passed through the bars, body ghosting into to smoke when colliding with the solid frames.

Safely unharmed inside the cage, you carefully picked up the large glass of ale. And, just as you had entered, you simply exited without impediment. The glass seemed to have the same effect on the cages confinements as your body, partially turning to smoke when the edge of it made contact with one of the bars. It returned to its solid state, you along with it, as soon as you were free in the open hall.

A resounding applause echoed off the walls. Truly, nothing like this had been seen before.

As with the others, you recieved your own introduction as you walked back towards the royal table.

“Eris’s unique abilities allow her to pass through solid objects undetected as well as teleport from one position to the next; making her a useful ally in combat. Try as you might, you’ll never catch her unless she wants you to,” Calders words were perfectly timed to your footsteps, ending just as you arrived in front of the Golden Prince, across the table.

You returned the large glass of ale to its missing location in front of the god. As your arm moved back towards your body, it was stopped by a firm hand on your wrist.

The younger Prince’s hand was cool to the touch; a pleasant sensation in a room warmed by bodies. His grasp was firm, but not painful. Just enough to let you know he wanted something. Green eyes shifted from your face, down your long neck, and to your exposed cleavage.

A shiver ran down your spine.

A moment of silence fell between the two of you, worlds stopping and time freezing.

_The dagger!_

You wanted to hit yourself. Of course that’s what he wanted. He was expecting his property returned to him.

_I don’t think so._

“You know, grabbing a lady like this is not a very gentlemanly thing to do,” you remarked, smiling coyly. His mesmerizing eyes shot up to yours, clearly taken aback at the lack of respect. “Finders keepers!”

Pulling your arm away, the Prince was left grasping nothing but purple smoke. His eyes pinned to the place your wrist was moments ago, you left with nothing but a small wave before traveling back to your companions.

The demonstration complete, Calder thanked the audience as the room erupted into thunderous applause. Together once more, you and your team each bowed in unison.

Back at the royal table, Loki should have been seething. He was, however, pleasantly surprised. The turn of events was welcomed, and for once in his life he enjoyed eating his words. As for his knife, he was unconcerned. He would get it back, of that he was sure.

_‘Perhaps,’_ he mused to himself, _‘This was not so insufferable after all.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Reader is introduced, going by the nickname of Eris, and our dear Prince Loki seems quite interested in your performance.
> 
> I was deeply inspired by the movements of the Goddess of Chaos, Eris, in the animated movie Sinbad. If you want to get a visual of how I imagine she moves, that is a great reference. I'll be utilizing the source a little more with her powers, so if you've seen it you may know what kind of tricks are up her sleeves!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! It is my goal to update once a week. I've already written Chapter 4 and things are getting interesting! I love Kudos and comments as it keeps me enthusiastic about writing! It's always nice to know when someone is reading your work.
> 
> Thanks again and see you next week!


	3. Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s watching you, you know.” Green eyes tracked your every movement.
> 
> “I know.”

The last of the demonstrations finished up relatively quickly after your eccentric display. Applause seemed almost forced throughout the hall, as nothing compared to the unique show your team from Vanaheim had prepared. That wasn’t to say that the remainder wasn’t deserving, it just lacked the luster and novelty that your group of misfits provided.

With the final group complete, presenting nothing of note, the buzzing of the crowd began. Next was the reception in which all attendees would socialize and begin to build their alliances. From the stir you and your team created, you knew Vanaheim would be quite popular this time around.

Attention turned towards Odin the Allfather who would conclude the end of showcase and declare the start of the first grand reception. Standing, Odin powerfully grasped Gungnir, his beloved “Spear of Heaven” and swiftly knocked the end of it onto the marble floor. A resounding and powerful drum echoed off the walls. The room fell into silence.

As always, he spoke with a millenia's worth of wisdom laced throughout his words. “What we’ve seen here this day has been well deserved of your invitation. You should all be very proud. Coming together and sharing our knowledge is the key to maintaining the great peace we have all achieved.” Giving a slight bow of his head, he continued “You will always have a home in Asgard and a friend to call in times of need. Please-” he outstretched his free arm to gesture over the empty center of the room- “Enjoy yourselves. Our home is yours.”

The room resounded in mannered applause. Musicians, with their golden instruments, took their cue and began the start of the night's festivities. Couples fled to the center, some from across realms, while diplomats began their rehearsed interactions with one another. The melody of the musicians barely reached above the noise of the excited crowd as more spirits were brought out to the guests.

“More mead, your Highness?” offered a palace servant to the Dark Prince. Loki glanced at his empty glass and gracefully declined. After earlier, his pallet for alcohol was satiated to say the least.

Near the center of the room, you and your team were flooded with congratulations, introductions, and proposals of potential contracts from various representatives. While the twins and Calder took the sudden attention gracefully, Einar was less than enthusiastic. Of course he always had that flat look of boredom etched into his fair features so it was difficult to tell how he felt at any given moment, but you knew better. His blank expressions stemmed from putting a constant dampener on his own emotions, leaving him a hollow shell so to speak. He always said it had to do with being overloaded with the emotions of others, but you thought it was more than that. Understanding privacy however, you never inquired further. Einar seemed to recognize this, and so a silent bond had formed between you two, one where unspoken vows of trust ran deep.

You cast a sideways glance at your slightly shorter companion, checking in yet careful not to raise too much attention from the rest of your group. Einars steel grey eyes met yours through his transparent curtain of silvery white locks before promptly returning to the rest of the crowd. _Rude._ Yup, he was fine. You rolled your eyes.

“Please, if you would excuse us,” Calder gracefully announced to the humming crowd you found yourselves in the center of. “My comrades and I require a moment of privacy.”

_Here it comes._

The crowd, disappointed but understanding, began talking amongst themselves as you and your group took your leave a few paces away. A passing servant with a tray full of mead stopped momentarily at your desperate expression.

A smile quirked on the edge of her lips as she asked, “Drink, Mi’lady?” knowing the answer before she posed the question.

“Don’t mind if I do!” you responded quickly, grasping a delicate glass from her ample tray. She turned to leave, a smile playing on her lips, but stopped as you placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. Eyes widening, the servant watched as you knocked back the party drink with no finesse whatsoever; downing it as quickly as you had taken it.

Finished, you gasped as you came up for air. You placed the now empty glass back onto her tray before reaching for another one. This one you intended to sip.

“Rough night?” mused the servant girl, clearly amused.

“You have no idea.”

Raising the glass in a small salute, you left to meet up with your team which was now a few paces in front of you.

“Thank you for joining us,” Calder remarked sarcastically at your arrival, noting the tinge of pink on your cheeks. He was, in your humble opinion, quite the lady killer. Why he wasn’t engaged with those killer cerulean eyes and silky golden locks was anyone's guess. He was impressive, intelligent and charming with a presence that just demanded your attention. You had always had a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him, as most did, but took to your feelings by poking fun and annoying the Hel out of him. He was always less than enthused.

“You’re welcome,” you replied cheekily. “I know you’re just dying to let me have it. Off you go, let’s get this over with.”

“Did you return the dagger to the Prince?” Calder urged, ignoring your previous statement. Always quick to the point, this one.

“That was so cool!” Syri chimed in.

“When did we decide to do that?” finished Sylvi.

“We didn’t,” replied Calder, giving the twins a sideways glance to behave, “It was a reckless addition to an already perfect demonstration.”

“The crowd seemed to think otherwise,” you retorted, sipping your second glass of mead nonchalantly. You gestured to your breasts, “Clearly I haven’t returned his precious weapon, Calder. If you would have used your eyes you would have noticed that.”

The twins busted out into fits of giggles as Calder's own face flushed with a tinge of pink. He allowed himself a quick glance before turning away, regaining his composure. Sure enough, the ceremonial dagger was tucked securely away between your breasts and down the front of your dress. You stood a little taller at your win.

“That was quite the spectacle, my dear,” a chilling voice hissed just behind you. The color in your face draining to a panicked white. It was a cruel voice, a heartless voice; able to suck the joy from even the most jovial of hearts. You and your team each cast their eyes downwards towards the floor, in reverence or fear, it didn’t really matter. You did your best to push back the shiver that wanted to rack its way up your spine. To do so would imply weakness. With this man, that was a death sentence.  In compromise, your proud posture crumpled almost instantly.

“Senator Egil,” Calder bowed in respect, “My deepest apologies.” The only one brave enough to engage him. Bless Calder and his courage.

“Indeed,” sneered the Senator. “There is a reason that we rehearse as extensively as we do.” You winced. This was your fault.

“I understand, I-”

  
“Then tell me why, Calder, you cannot control your subordinates?”

Silence. This was your doing.

You eyed Calder, whose eyes were focused very intently on the marble beneath his feet. Could you just stand there and let him get reemed for your mistakes?

“I asked you a question, Captain,” Senator Egil hissed expectantly.

“Sir,” you interjected, and all eyes seem to snap to you in surprise. Egil’s expression was slack.

_Well fuck, now you had to do this._

Gathering your courage, you continued, eyes still cast downwards. _Shit, shit, shit!_  “It wasn’t his fault, I was the one wh-”

“I thought it would leave more of a lasting impression if Eris used the Prince's dagger. It was my decision. A mistake. I take full responsibility,” Calder forced, intentionally speaking over your misconduct. In that moment he saved you from torment. But at what cost?

_Calder…_

“Be that as it may,” Egil hissed, promptly snatching the glass of mead out of your hands. You winced. A conditioned response. “ _Eris,_ must be reminded of her place.”

Coming from his lips, your treasured pet name sounded embarrassing.

“Yes, sir. I agree, sir,” Calder spoke his words like a true soldier. You knew he would do you no harm, but he repeated the words he knew the Senator wanted to hear.

_You don’t need to take the front for my mistakes._

Egil paused, examining you both carefully. “Your actions have caught some _unwanted attention_ . See that the Prince receives his property promptly and let’s hope that his intrigue in _Eris’s_ little act is fleeting. We cannot afford any prying eyes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Best of luck on your mission, Captain. _Do not fail_.” With that, the figure of fear incarnate left to mingle with the rest of the diplomats. His persona changing almost instantly as he went.

Politicians.

For a few moments, you all stood in careful quiet. What do you say when you were chastised like children, or worse, treated like objects?

It was Syri who was the first to speak.

“It’s just a stupid piece of jewelry, why the severity?” she growled, “It’s not like this is a _real_ mission anyway, just another demonstration.”

“One that they don’t know about,” Calder tried to explain. It was hard to defend a man who saw you as nothing but instruments for his own self gain.

“Even so,” she continued, “He seems to be taking this way too seriously.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” you interrupted bitterly.

Calder nodded in agreement. “Right,” he said. “You know what to do.”

Your group dispersed as rehearsed. The twins, putting on their best smiles despite the hurt, went to the direction of a few of the palace guards while Einar took a seat towards the rim of the room; silent. Calder extended a hand to you which your gracefully took.

He lead you to the center of the room amongst the throws of dancing couples. From the royal table, green eyes tracked your every movement.

“He’s watching you, you know,” Calder muttered, pulling you close as you danced.

“I know,” was your simple response. Egil had ruined your night with his presence just like he always did. Calder seemed to pick up on that but said nothing. What was there to say?

The two of you danced mostly in silence, each of you refusing to meet each other's eyes. You followed the rehearsed dance step for step, twirl for twirl, until you could no longer take the air of awkwardness between the two of you.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” you said forcefully.

“I know,” mimicked his response.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” you pressed, eyes finally looking up at his. “It was my grave I dug. Let me lie in it.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied curtly, dipping you lowly. His hand was comfortable on your waist. Bringing you up, he continued “You’re an integral part of this team. We can’t do what we do without you.”

He moved you more towards the center of the crowd, preparing your planned escape. Taking your cue, you loosely wrapped your hands around his neck as he pulled you closer. He smelled like lavender and sea breeze. “Eris,” Calder spoke with a smile. “Return the bloody dagger won’t you?”

You smiled. He was such a brat.

“See you later, Captain,” you smirked, placing a soft kiss to the side of his face before dropping through the floor, you hands ghosting down his neck before dissolving into smoke.

Calder, now partner-less, gave a sigh. _That wasn’t a yes._

Green eyes catch your disappearance. The crowd of people a good enough cover for those not looking for something out of the ordinary. But he was. Emerald orbs spy that familiar purple haze that trickles between the feet of the dancing couples, getting kicked up before fading away completely. It was only your partner's eyes momentarily glancing at the grand hall doors that he has confirmation of your destination. Likewise, the Prince takes his leave of the party and disappears from sight.

Calder sends a silent prayer for your journey, eyes moving only momentarily towards your rehearsed destination beyond the confines of the grand hall. He sends his glance towards the royal table, expecting to meet prying eyes but finds none. The Prince is gone.

Groaning, Calder speaks through the collective. _“Heads up, Eris, you’ve got a Trickster on your tail.”_

Successfully on the other side of the grand hall doors, you grin. _“Well aren’t I special?”_

There were still servants walking about at this hour, if you ran to your destination you would cause even more unwanted attention. You did enough damage already, so that was out of the question. Luckily, there was no chance at getting lost. Senator Egil had given you specific directions for the destination and you walked through it with him more than enough times. It was not far, just a few twists and turns.

_“Just deal with it and get on with the task at hand,”_ Calder replied.

_“Sir, yes sir,”_ you mock.

Left, left, then a right. You were close. Soon you could be done with this silly pretend mission and enjoy the night's festivities. Maybe even manage to get another drink. You could use it.

It happened in a series of seconds. A chill ran across your exposed skin as the air shifted just behind you. Hot breath tickled the flesh of your ear and for a moment your knees went weak. You felt your back collide with a wall that seemed to stretch upwards for eternity.

Wrists bound above your head, your captor towered over your already lengthy frame.

“Finders keepers,” he all but growled.

“Prince Loki,” you smirk. “What a surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Sorry for the wait. Life has gotten quite busy as it typically has a habit of. With my boss on maternity leave, I'm now stepping in to fill her shoes. It's a great opportunity but it's left me exhausted on some days. Anyways!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm very excited for the future of this story. Thank you for being a part of it!
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Impersonations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your back began to ache at the way it was arched and the pinch at your wrists was slowly all you could feel as your arms tingled with numbness thanks to your captors enthusiastic grip. Something inside of you purred at the sensation.
> 
> You really needed to get out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Here we go!
> 
> This one goes out to Abancy. Merry Christmas!

You never had much free time. From the moment your memories began you were under the care and tutelage of Senator Egil. ~~The fact that your most distant memory began somewhere around age 10 was inconsequential to this moment~~ ~~.~~ The point was, you never had much time for a social life, let alone a sex life. Sure there were partners, many at that, but they were all part of an assignment. To be honest, most of them weren’t any good.

Okay, _some_ were a heavy mix of business and pleasure.

_Like that one time…_ When was that, a few _months_ ago?

Come to think of it, you had hit a sort of dry spell as of late. Senator Egil had you training relentlessly for what seemed like decades all for this moment. Well, maybe not _this_ moment, but you get the idea. Being a good soldier didn’t leave much time for personal needs, much less those of the physical kind.

Your back began to ache at the way it was arched and the pinch at your wrists was slowly all you could feel as your arms tingled with numbness thanks to your captors enthusiastic grip. Something inside of you purred at the sensation.

_You really needed to get out more._

 

Face to face with a Prince. Not many could say they’ve had that experience.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you grinned. From this close you could really take in his features. Standing about a head taller than you, and that was with him leaning over ever so slightly, his long ebony locks fell from their slicked back origins and created a partial curtain around the left side of his angular face. Piercing emerald orbs stared you down like a criminal; which in all honesty, you sort of were. He smelled like the air of a stormy night and... _was that sulfur_?

_Was he some sort of demon?_

“You seem like a smart girl. Can’t you put two and two together?”

Lost in your thoughts you almost missed his clipped reply. His voice was velvet dark and honey smooth, each word pronounced to their utmost. A sure sign of nobility. His presence was demanding and expectant, like he wasn’t used to being told no. He probably didn’t know the meaning of the word.

_He couldn’t be a demon...the devil maybe?_

His eyes sparkled between devious and dangerous.

_Yeah, I’d believe that._

“Was that a compliment?” you quipped. “I didn’t realize you were so easy.”

_Alright, enough with the innuendos._ _Do your job already. Play with the devil later._

The Prince raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in intrigue. Not many found the courage enough to challenge him, and fewer with wit. He matched your provocation tit for tat. “Fond enough of me already to desire my approval?” The Prince let out a low chuckle which did dangerous things to your senses. “My, my you work fast.”

You couldn’t get over it. There was something about that scent that seemed so familiar to you. You were stuck. Obviously Loki was neither demon nor devil, he was quite the opposite in fact. So what was it? What logical conclusion could you draw as to the reason that scent clung to him like it belonged there?

“Are you around many candles?” you found yourself asking, completely derailing the previous ~~flirtatious~~ engaging exchange.

Loki looked at you like you suddenly sprouted two heads. His grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly, taken aback by your sudden shift. “What?” was all he could muster. Really though, where did _that_ come from?

Thoroughly embarrassed, you did your best to regain your footing. Acting as though that faux pas never occurred, you put on your best arrogant smirk and tried your damnedest to pick up where you left off ~~even if all it did was make hang a lantern on your query~~. “I believe you’re the one projecting their desires, dear Prince.”

This exchange went from tantalizing to tragic in 0.4 seconds. New personal best!

 

Loki honestly didn’t know what to make of you in that moment. From genuine to actor, the mask slipped only slightly; yet in that fraction he caught a glimpse of a charmingly distracted girl before it disappeared behind a facade of a sultry temptress. How much of what he’d seen had been real up until that point? His eyes narrowed, reminded to keep his own guard up lest his mask fall prey to the same slip. His grip tightened. The serpent returned. “I’ve simply come to reclaim what is mine,” he combated darkly.

From the depths of your mind came a voice that was not your own.

_“Eris, have you done it?”_ Calder. _“Have you taken the pendant?”_

You wanted to laugh. _“I’m a bit tied up I’m afraid.”_

_“Untie yourself,”_ was his stern reply. He sound almost urgent. _“There’s been a change of plans.”_

_“I’m sorry. What now? Tell me you’re joking.”_ Changing plans didn’t happen.

_“No joke. You need to get to Odin’s vault of treasures.”_ His voice was direct and to the point. He was in Captain mode now. Something was wrong. _“The time frame remains the same. Einar is gathering directions now. He’ll lead you there.”_

_“Calder, what’s going on? We’ve never changed plans like this before.”_ You were concerned. Hel, you might even say you were scared.

_“Orders,”_ was all you were given before the connection was cut.

Egil.

You brought your focus back to your current state of affairs. As much as you wanted to keep playing, Einar would soon be feeding you directions and you only had one shot at hearing them. Besides the fact that reading a stream of thoughts didn’t have a pause switch, he didn’t like to repeat himself.

Loki must have thought you beaten, having no reply for his earlier comment. He simply stared at you, reading your subtle facial expressions shift from confidence, to concern, fear, then finally resting at determination. He knew there was something he was missing, he just didn’t know what.

“Take it,” you challenged. You were not beaten yet. You chose your words carefully, intending on the double entendre for flirtations sake. You couldn’t help it, you wanted to leave a lasting impression should this game continue.

_Gods, did you want it to continue._

“Excuse me?” Loki retorted, choking back surprise. The subtle implications were not lost on him. Focusing on what you _really_ meant, he fought back the urge to eye the location of his precious weapon. He couldn’t take it. To do so would mean he’d have to touch...

“You heard me,” you shot back; lifting your neck and pressing your chest forward to emphasize your point. “If you want your trinket back so desperately then take it.”

Loki scoffed at your display, intentionally keeping his eyes trained on yours. To glance, even for a moment, would be to admit defeat. The Liesmith didn’t like to lose. “It’s not some silly trinket, you hellcat,” he sneered. “It’s the property of a Prince, theft of which is execution.” He leaned his body forward, challenging you and in doing so pressed his chest against yours. Neither of you would admit the spark of electricity that ran through your nervous systems for a fraction of a second upon contact. “The only reason you’re still alive right now is because _I allow it._ ”

“Well then, I’m honored to be in your _good graces,_ ” you wink, unfazed by the threat.

The Prince paused. Perhaps you didn’t understand. That could be the only logical reason you didn’t submit and give in like the many who came before you. Loki was used to being feared, not placated. “I could have you killed.”

You rolled your eyes. “As you’ve said,” you replied with a bored expression. You gave the Prince alluring invitation through half lidded eyes. Your voice however, was still as sarcastic as ever. “Now is this going anywhere? Because I have places to be.”

Loki didn’t respond. Were you flirting with him? His mind was trying to think several steps ahead. Was this some sort of game? What was your end goal? Where did you have to be?

From the depths of your mind Einar pulled your attention. _Time to go_.

You pulled your arms free from his grasp, wrists transitioning into smoke similar to the experience at the banquet table, before coming around to drape over his neck where they solidified once more. You gazed up at him, a cheeky grin on your face. “As fun as it would be to continue this little confrontation-”

That same smoke started to build around your body. You stepped through him, translucent smoke licking his skin as your body started from one side of his form and ended on the other. You turned, finding that he was already facing your new position. You shrugged. You couldn’t surprise them all it seemed. “-It looks like we’re all out of time.”

Loki stepped forward and you took a coy step back. “This is far from over,” he remarked, already seeing where this encounter was leading.

“That sounds like a promise," you stated before dropping through the floor and out of sight.

 

***

 

_“Courtyard,”_ Einar commanded.

You slipped past the eleventh guard undetected. The cool night air was a blessing on the areas of your bare skin, still warm from the earlier encounter. _“How much further?”_ you pressed. _“I’m almost out of time.”_

_“I wasn’t the one gallivanting with the Prince,”_ responded Einar coolly. _“Keep going straight. Don’t go left into the gardens. There should be a straight shot down a path lined with trees.”_

_“I see it,”_ you confirmed, ghosting from tree to tree to avoid detection. Little puffs of purple smoke being the only trail you left behind, and they were mostly hidden behind the massive trunks. “ _And for the record-”_ you added, back flush against a tree staring in the direction you had come from-  _“I wasn’t ‘gallivanting’ with the Prince. To leave a conversation so suddenly would have aroused suspicion.”_

The lie was forced even to your ears.

Einar dropped the topic. For that you were grateful. _“You’ll need to get past the guards at the entrance,"_ he explained smoothly.  _“There are some posted around the perimeter. You won’t be able to just walk through.”_

_“Watch me.”_

There was brief moment of silence as you realized the stupidity of your words. You rolled your eyes, knowing Einar was wearing the most subtle of smirks. _“Trust me, okay?”_

_“We always do.”_

It was a short response, but in his words reflected years of meaning. These were more than just colleagues and teammates. These were your friends, and dare you say it, your family. You had been through Hel and back together. You and your broken band of misfits; each of you carrying your own sort of baggage before Egil brought you all together.

_“That’s enough reminiscing,”_ Einar shook you from your thoughts. _“You need to get in and out before the festivities conclude and Odin is back walking the grounds. This is our one and only shot.”_

_“Mind telling me what I’m supposed to be picking up? I only planned for a necklace so that’s the size bag I have,”_ you checked the pouch on your left thigh through the slit of your elegant dress. The small drawstring purse was held by a tight strap pointed inwards between your thighs to avoid detection through the fabric of the gown. Though mildly uncomfortable, you had almost forgotten it was there.

Thoughts of your encounter with the Prince flooded back. If that had continued and he caught a glimpse this whole operation would be over. He was smart and only thieves had such equipment.

He had mentioned death over taking an item belonging to a Prince. You didn’t want to think about the repercussions to taking one of Odin's coveted treasures.

_“Your target is an Vanir amulet, similar in size to your original goal so you should be fine,"_ Einar informed.

_“Amulet?”_ you questioned. _“What does Egil need with an amulet?”_

_“I don’t ask questions,”_ responded Einar. _“And you shouldn’t either.”_

Sighing, you rolled your neck and shoulders, letting out the tension built up over the last few hours. Cracking your knuckles, you began to work your magic; quite literally. The shadow of the tree you stood in stretched long, a dark contrast to the moonlit grass and stone. You pulled from it, lifting the shadow straight from the ground and forming it to your will. In seconds a perfect replica of the dark Asgardian Prince stood before you, back facing you, ceremonial robes and all. His eyes were empty, a shell waiting to be filled. One after the other you pressed your limbs into his, fully stepping into your puppet until only it remained. Your eyes, almost glowing in the moonlight, filled it’s empty gaze.

_“It’s been awhile since you’ve pulled that trick,”_ commented Einar.

_“It’s been awhile since I’ve needed it,”_ you replied. _“These Asgardians are no joke.”_

You rolled around the tree to face your new destination. Disguise fitting snugly, you began your wide strides towards the vaults entrance.

_“One inside there will be second set of doors. You’ll go across a bridge surrounded in darkness. Through the final set of golden doors is where the treasury resides,”_ your companion explained. _“Remember that your target is a Vanir amulet. It should look like something familiar; like something from home.”_

_“Maybe that’s why he wants it,_ ” you mused, almost at the front entrance. The guards at their posts seemed to tense at your incoming presence. _“Maybe Odin took it from the counsel and they want it back.”_

_“It isn’t our job to theorize why our orders are the way they are, only to execute them.”_

“Your Highness,” addressed one of the guards, bowing in reverence to your new form. He was stiff, the grip on his weapon tight. Was he scared?

“What business do you have here?” addressed the other, his words almost accusatory. This one did not bow.

_“Our Prince doesn’t seem to be very popular”,_  you remarked, making a mental note of that detail later.

“Shouldn’t you be at the party?” the second guard pressed. This man clearly wanted to be ~~decapitated~~ unemployed.

“Shouldn’t you be showing proper reverence to your Prince?” you sneered, voice a perfect match to the haughty royal.

The guard glared but shut his mouth. Next to him his friend trained his eyes to the ground, nervous for what would come.

“Kneel,” you commanded. The guard with the attitude only seemed to stiffen up at the demand. He made no move to obey. His anger and frustration would get him killed. You winced inwardly. You could relate. Showing respect to someone you resented was torment. But just as you were forced to comply, this man would as well. For that you felt no pity. “I said. Kneel.”

Reluctantly, the guard dropped to his knee, head bowed. He was a good soldier after all.

You let a triumphant smirk pull at your lips. Striding between the two and through the entrance to the vault, you relished in the power of being on the top of the food chain. The heavy ornate doors shut firmly behind you with a groan, leaving you in private.

Einars voice echoed in your mind, _“That was a very convincing performance. Take notes when you were ‘tied up’?”_ You could practically feel him indulging in a subtle grin. He was in a good mood if he was being snarky. It also meant he was alone. He didn’t share this side of himself with anyone; anyone but you that is.

_“It was a great learning opportunity,”_ you indulged in turn. Your new footsteps echoed down the long bridge and filled the empty corridor. Short and abrupt, his steps were a stark contrast to your long and lingering ones. You crossed with that same confidence you imagined he walked with. Long and powerful strides; walking with purpose. You didn’t imagine he was one to take a leisurely stroll. Even in thought he must pace with the same urgency…

_“Daydreaming?”_ inquired Einar.

_“What?”_ you replied, lost in thought.

_“I asked if you were at the double doors yet.”_

_“Oh,”_ you blushed sheepishly, pink tint spreading across your new face. _“I’m just about there.”_

Einar sighed and you felt yourself sober up at the sound. _“You’re walking dangerous territory,”_ he warned. _“Don’t get attached.”_

You reached the final set of ornate doors and continued your current trajectory. _“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no ‘getting attached’ because there is no interest. I was just having a bit of fun.”_

_“Right. For your sake I hope that’s the case,”_ replied Einar. _“Do you see the amulet?”_

You passed by many relics from many realms. Some beautiful, some old; all deadly. _“It’s like a trophy room,”_ you commented, a little uneasy at the realization.

_“That’s exactly what it is.”_

How many people did the Allfather steal from? How many were justified?

You suddenly found yourself at ease with your mission. It wasn’t stealing if it was _your_ property to begin with. Right?

_“I see it.”_ It was tucked away on one of the pedestals lining the room. Clearly not as important as the items on the main display. It did indeed look familiar, the runes that were etched into the metal work around its large gem were similar runes to the ones adorning the castle walls back home on Vanaheim. The gem was clear, but looked almost stained with remnants of a red color filling its form. It hung from a modest leather cord. Simply looking at it filled you apprehension.

Stepping out of the Prince puppet momentarily, you quickly lifted the amulet from its origins and neatly folded it into the small bag secured at your inner thigh. You did your best to ignore the feeling of dread which seemed to only grow at its closeness. Rolling your shoulders back once more you returned to figure of the Prince, slipping into the puppet like a second skin.

_“Meet us back in the Vanaheim dorms,”_ Einar informed.

_“Understood,”  y_ ou replied. You felt the connection cut. You were on your own now.

 

You exited as quickly as you entered.

This was always the most exhilarating part of the job. Knowing you had something of such importance on your person and going about your business as if you possessed nothing at all. One wrong move and the mission could be jeopardized. It was addicting. A secret worth the lives of many.

You really shouldn’t be this thrilled about that.

_You really needed to get out more._

“Your Highness” the guards bowed deeply as you strolled past them. You uttered not a word but held your head a little higher. You kept your pace even and normal.

This was the drawback to taking the form of someone of importance. On one hand, impersonating a royal was the only way you were going to get inside that vault. On the other hand, with said royal stalking the grounds at this very moment, it would be most awkward to be caught in his skin by the very man you dressed yourself up as. You needed to find cover and soon. This kind of thing didn’t matter when you were dressed as Palace Guard #42.

What if you encountered someone he knew before you had a chance to relinquish the puppet? You didn’t know the Prince well enough to execute such an intimate performance. On those rare occasions where you did dress the part of someone worth note you did your research, studied their mannerisms and practiced their habits. You just met this man a few hours ago!

Just a few more feet and you were clear of the courtyard. You could feel the stares of the guards burn into your back. There would be no ducking behind a tree this time. You needed to enter back into the palace and round the first corner you could.

It was exhausting being this man. What did he do to be this mistrusted?

_Almost there._

Would someone recognize your impersonation should they bump into you?

_Just a few more strides and we’d be home free._

Would you be able to talk your way through the encounter?

_Through the doors now. Just a couple of feet down the hall and I can duck around the first corridor and out of sight._

What if the Prince himself caught you in the act?

_So close..._

Those piercing eyes boring into your soul.

You rounded the corner of the first available corridor with adrenaline so high your could taste it on your lips. You shed your disguise and let it melt into the shadows of the halls, never slowing your stride for you were not quite out of the woods just yet. You were still too far from the party for it to seem natural, even if you did feign that you were lost.

Free of any prying eyes you let yourself drop through the floor once more, appearing in a more familiar location closer to the festivities. You remember passing through this hall when you arrived, making a mental note to revisit it before you returned home. Now it served as a useful landmark. Teleportation was great, but you needed to know where your destination was or it did little good.

 

The entrance to the library looked inviting. You were sure the room easily contained more books than the one back home.

A familiar voice woke you from your musings.

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You suddenly became very aware of the amulet strapped between your thighs. Turning on a delicate heel you faced the man whose skin you wore just minutes ago, trying to act as natural as possible.

_As natural as one could with a stolen treasure hidden on their person._

Mischief danced in his emerald eyes as regarded your startled form. He caught the nervous stiffening of your muscles, though he mistook his sudden appearance for its cause. Leaning against the palace wall with all the confidence in the nine realms, he crossed his arms smugly. His words held that same tone of superiority as yours did when you impersonated him just minutes ago. “With all do respect, hellcat, I think I’ll take my dagger now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a plot I smell? I think it is!
> 
> Next chapter is a Loki centered one. No teasing this time, I promise!
> 
> As always, thanks to you all who take the time to read this story of mine. Comment your thoughts and drop some Kudos my way! See you next time! Happy holidays and all that jazz!


	5. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a first time for everything,” you growled, dizzy and brain high on dopamine. No one mentioned he was an A+ seducer.
> 
> He chuckled darkly and your knees almost turned to jelly. Almost. You needed to turn this train around before it was too late. His words were like velvet making it harder to shake the spell. “I’m afraid I’ve done enough that first times are but a fleeting memory, Eris.”

A private meeting with a Prince, twice in one night. The Gods must be smiling on you. The one in front of you certainly was, but it was more of a haughty grin than an actual _smile_. But hey, you’d take what you could get.

He looked downright devious, the way he was leaning against the wall; arms crossed with his chin turned slightly upwards, just radiating royal breeding. His robes were tailored fit to perfection, and now that you finally got a good look at him, perfection suited him nicely. This man was a certified lady killer, and Hel did he know it.

You crossed your arms to mimic his stance. Those skilled in the art of body language would easily be able to identify the flirtatious nature of the affair. Luckily, experts you both were not. “With all do respect, dear Prince, I think you’re trying too hard with the pet name. Though I appreciate the attempt; I already have one.”

He didn’t move except for the slightest tug on his lips. His emerald eyes trained intently on yours. He regarded you with something akin to the fascination of a new found toy. Desperate to lift the monotony of his days, you were the perfect distraction. Yes, you would do nicely until the next one came along.  “Eris,” he confirmed. Your true name would remain a mystery, for now. But Gods did he long to taste it on his lips.

Your own grin spread across your features, stretching it into an almost cheshire like smile. “You remembered? I must be special.”

“Stealing from royalty tends to leave an impression.”

_Shit._

Heart stopping, fear started to work its way to the tips of your fingers and to bottoms of your feet, preparing you for fight or flight. _Did he know?_ You crossed your legs to keep the urge to run restrained and instead leaned against the library doors opposite the Trickster. The now familiar poke of the stolen amulet between your thighs currently felt like a death sentence. _How did he know?_ Ice seemed to spread through your veins as you regarded the Prince with cool precision. _You were so careful._ Arms crossed across your bosom, you tightened them against your body to keep your heart from beating out of your-

_Ouch! What the Hel?_

A sharp stab of pain shot through your sternum. Your arms loosened slightly and the pain eased with it. Realization dawned on you. The dagger.

He only meant the dagger.

Warmth replaced the ice in your blood and your heart slowed as the adrenaline ran its course. You needed to take control of this situation. Your paranoia would get you caught.

You regarded the Prince with an unchanging expression, the storm in your mind undetected. You shrugged. “I already told you that if you wanted it back all you had to do was take it.”

The Prince matched your unchanging expression with his own. “Maybe I will.”

Okay. That was not what you had expected. Better keep him talking lest he back up his words. While getting physical was actually _exactly_ what you wanted, ~~(I mean how could it not be. Have you **_seen_ ** him?) ~~ now was not the best time. This amulet was proving to be the biggest cock block in the history of cock blocks. “Gathered some courage have we?” you quipped. “When last we spoke you seemed almost afraid of the idea.”

“Simply caught off guard,” the Trickster shrugged, pushing himself off of the wall. “Most women around here are subtle, not desperate.”

You uncrossed an arm and brought a hand up under your chin, your other arm still resting under your bosom; a telling smirk playing on your features. His comment didn’t phase you. It was the obvious attempt at man trying to hide his weaknesses. “You seem like the type of man _accustomed_ to direct propositions from women,” you touched your bottom lip slightly as your eyes shamelessly worked over his attractive person. “I bet you have _several_ notches on your belt by now. Hel, maybe you needed a second one.”

For a moment he seemed almost annoyed that you didn’t take the bait. Your compliment, however, was more than enough to satisfy his need to keep the game going.

Three solid strides and he was directly in front of you, making you realize that he was about a head taller than your figure. Hands planted firmly against the library doors on either side of you face, he grinned like a wolf cornering a hen. You felt your heart skip. He was really ~~delicious~~ bad news when he did that.

“Was that a proposition then?” he breathed smoothly. “I pegged you to be a woman who got to the point.”

You chuckled and he traded out his grin for a raised eyebrow. “It seems our first encounter wasn’t sufficient enough to make us anything more than strangers.” Leaning forward, your lips tickled the flesh of his ear. You felt him fail to suppress a shudder at the contact. He wanted it just as badly as you did. Good to know. “If you knew me, you’d know I love a good game.”

His head turned to mimic your action. The moment his lips grazed your sensitive flesh, a fire ignited in your chest. Though he only breathed his words, he might as well have breathed new life into your lungs. “Indeed,” he agreed. “If you were familiar, you’d know that in games I am unsurpassed.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” you growled, dizzy and brain high on dopamine. No one mentioned he was an A+ seducer.

He chuckled darkly and your knees almost turned to jelly. Almost. You needed to turn this train around before it was too late. His words were like velvet making it harder to shake the spell. “I’m afraid I’ve done enough that _first times_ are but a fleeting memory, _Eris._ ”

_Oh sweet merciful Gods he_ **_did not_ ** _just pull that trick._ Your name was like sin on his lips when he said it like that and strike you down if you didn’t want more. _Damn this amulet. Dammit to Hel and back again._ When this was over it was _so on_! But for now you needed to play a little harder to get.

You pulled your head back, letting it rest on the doors behind you as you eyed him with skepticism. “What is it with men and having to boast about their conquests?”

“Would you like to find out?”

_Oh yeah. Yes, I most certainly would._

“I assure you-”, you quip with a smirk-, “I may not be as _seasoned_ as you are, but I’ve had my share of experiences. Those who talk big are always the names _I can’t remember._ ”

You expected him to come at you with a lame excuse as to how he was different, and though his response was reminiscent of that direction, his words would leave an impression on you for years to come; haunting your dreams and infecting your waking hours. And he would be right.

“Mine will seep into your bones.”

_Loki - 1, Eris - 0_

Like magic the door behind you opened suddenly. The cool rush of air from an unoccupied room hits your skin and sobers your thoughts as you stumble backwards into the empty space, caught entirely off guard. The Prince stands still and unaffected by the sudden give of  the library doors. Curious. He was placing more weight on the doors than you were, so shouldn’t he be joining you in your awkward struggle for balance?

 

The room was cast in darkness until Prince strode past the threshold. As if in greeting, the library came to life at his presence, dozens of candles sparked at once, illuminating the space around you. A real smile played on Loki’s lips as he gazed around the massive room. It was a smile of contentment that one gets when returning home after a long and arduous day.

You regained your balance and took in your surroundings; sexual tension replaced with childlike wonder. This was a _real_ library. The one back home was cold and damp, books ruined with mold and running ink. The only flame to see that room was the one you would bring with you in an attempt to salvage the bleeding words and make sense of the blurred images. This room was its opposite in every way. Where there was darkness there was a light that illuminated every spine of every massive text. Where there was damp and cold, there was warmth that beckoned you further into its embrace.

Instead of harsh stone walls there was marble and careful paint. Gold accented the room, bringing even more warmth with it. A stark contrast to the rusted silver of home. This room was cared for and cherished while yours lay unkempt and forgotten.

From where you stood you marveled at the second story and its balconies, banisters formed a large circle and overlooked the center of the room you stood in. A large chandelier littered with candles hung impressively in the center of the empty space. Surely it was large enough to perch on...

“No books on Vanaheim?” commented Loki as he took in your sudden shift from confidence to wonderment. It was a very similar moment to your first encounter outside the grand hall where the facade of your mask slipped only slightly, revealing the girl underneath. She was like a secret part of you caught only in glimpses and careless moments. Again he was reminded not to do the same.

While your eyes were not trained sharply on him at this particular moment, he used that to his advantage. Most knew him well enough never to give him a moment's reprieve but you still had much to learn.

The perk of new toys.

However, your divided attention didn’t last long. At his words your eyes snapped solely back to him, your facade back in place.

It didn’t matter, it those brief seconds unobserved he had already laid his trap.

“My property, _Mi’lady_ , return it,” the Prince demanded, arm outstretched and palm pointed upwards.

Smuggly, you delicately crossed your arms over the stolen possession. “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

Eyes narrowed, but a ghost of a smile informed you that he was indeed enjoying this dance. Perhaps he even wanted it to last as long as you did? “Earning it isn’t required. It’s mine and I will have it returned.”

“Then you’ll just have to take it.”

The Prince let out a cruel laugh, a mocking and arrogant gesture that only partially went over your head. You would come to know later the silliness of your words. “Please provide me some semblance of a challenge!”  


_Did he not see what you could do?_ Was he asleep during your demonstration earlier that night? He had no power other than silly tricks. Not like you. Not real power. Practical power.

_Challenge accepted._

“Catch me if you can.”

The light of the candles choked out in an instant. This was your world now.

Darkness saturated the room like a heavy blanket. With the doors promptly shut there was nothing to help penetrate the black void. You let yourself melt into the darkness, becoming one with it and using it as a vessel to travel across the room, up to one of the balcony banisters where you swung your legs over and perched upon it like a queen. You spoke into the void with confidence that rivaled even the Prince of Lies. “Please, dear Prince, provide me with some semblance of a challenge?”

Okay. So maybe you had issues with being underestimated.

The library was quiet. One moment passed and then another without even a snicker from the Dark Prince. You expected a half hearted attempt at a comeback, perhaps in your dreams even a concession. But none came. Perhaps he was listening to you to gauge your location? Not even he could see in the dark, right?

His short, almost amused chuckle instantly made you uneasy. From where it came from it didn’t seem like he moved at all from where you left him.

Were you wrong about him?

No. Intel provided that he was an illusionist. A petty trickster with no practical knowledge of real magic. He couldn’t even make solid doubles! The fact that he was laughing was just a ploy. He was cunning and manipulative in every sense of the word. Loki was trying to get inside your head and make you _think_ he was more impressive than he was. But he didn’t know what you knew. He didn’t have the information you had.   


Light.

_Bright light_.

Light so bright it almost knocked you off your perch. Every candle you snuffed out was back to their flaming glory and burning brighter than ever. It took your eyes a second to adjust.

You looked down at the Prince who stood looking as smug as someone with a secret.

_Did he?_

No. There had to be a logical explanation for this. The room was enchanted somehow. Yes, and him probably being one of the only ones to use this room ~~if his vocabulary was any indication~~ his energy signature was fixed to the enchantment, giving him light whenever he needed during the long hours spent within. He was only trying to make you _think_ he lit them.

_Okay, yeah he’s pretty good._

But you were better. You submerged the room in darkness again.

Not three seconds later the room sprang back to life.

_You son of a -_

Glaring down at the Prince, he grinned wickedly up at you; no words, just that stupid ~~attractive~~ insufferable grin.

Without breaking eye contact you raised an arm and closed your hand into a fist, a single candle on the wall to your right snuffed out instantly.

_Do it. I fucking dare you._

A snap of his fingers and the candle was illuminated once more.

_Loki - 2, Eris - 0_

You growled and his grin only widened. “Parlor tricks,” you spat, disappearing in a puff of smoke only to reappear sitting delicately among the candles of the chandelier. “Regardless, they won’t help you catch me.”

A low voice tickles your ear from behind. It was warm and real and _not a simple illusion._ “Want to bet?”

You turn your head sharply at the intrusion only to come face to face with mesmerizing emerald eyes, face only inches away from yours. You let out a squeak and unceremoniously fell from your perch.

Arms catch you and for a moment you forget where you are. Did that really just happen? Looking up at the only person who could have caught you, you rethink the validity of your intel. “What-?” is all you can manage before looking up at the chandelier. There was no way…

A strikingly identical Prince Loki sat perched in your spot, waving down at you from among the glittering candles.

_Again with the grin!_

“Don’t you just _hate_ being underestimated?” said Loki with a knowing smirk.

A cool breeze tickles your bare thigh as the soft fabric of your dress begins to part at the slit, gravity doing its best to expose your secrets. You feel it, judging the time it would take before your dress fully parted and your theft would be discovered. You look into the eyes of this clever sorcerer, of whom you thought you knew so much about. He was right. You were the one underestimating _him_.

This man, this Prince, was a complete mystery. He didn’t play by the rules; he made his own.

You envied that.

With gravity pulling at your dress inch by inch with every passing second, it was time to shift positions lest your give yourself away over a simple embrace. You decided that if you were going to compromise your mission it would be over a much more _scandalous_ picture. One that involved a dimly lit room, significantly less clothing...

_And maybe some candle wax._

As if sensing your next move, the Prince lets his arms fall to his sides as you vanish into that familiar purple smoke he was beginning to loathe.

You reappear sitting delicately on the edge a table just a few feet away, adjusting the slit of your dress with feigned modesty. You pick up a book absentmindedly left abandoned on the table and flip through it as your mind flips through its memories, searching for something. “Candles,” you muse aloud. “I knew the sulfur came from candles.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki responds, once again caught off guard by your sudden shift of thought.

“You’re in here quite often aren’t you?” Your eyes did not leave the pages of the text in your hands.

Loki took a few steps in your direction. His words were haughty but his eyes betrayed his  curiosity. “Not that that’s any of your business, but I am.”

You play with the corner of a page absentmindedly, still deep in thought. You eyes stare through the words, lost between the text. “There was a scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on earlier. A scent that clung to you as if a part of you. Now I know it’s these candles,” You close the book and look in the direction of the Prince, only to see he’s come to rest just a few feet away, leaning against the very table you were using as a chair, his body turned towards you. You smirk playfully. “I thought Asgard was a society of warriors not scholars.”

With a sigh the Prince rolls his body so that his back was flush against the tables edge. Eyes trained towards the balcony, they narrow slightly. “Not all of us are gifted with traditional Asgardian traits.”

Was that bitterness? Perhaps you stumbled upon a touchy subject. Knowing you should back off but dying to learn more about the mystery beside you, you pressed on.

“You’re right,” your body mimics his pose as you too stare up at the library balcony. “You don’t look like the rest of them, do you?”

“Disappointing?” he remarks with a sneer. Green light envelopes his form as his appearance shifts between shimmering emerald luminescence. Beautiful golden hair replaces the dark raven locks, and entrancing sky blue eyes stare back at you, the dreamy green a distant memory. His pale skin has more warmth to it as if sunbathed from time spent under the Asgardian sun, not kissed by the glow of a thousand candles.  He doesn’t smile at you, but looks into your eyes with a centuries worth of self loathing. “Is this more appealing?” he asks, knowing full well that it is.

At least, that’s what his reflection tells him every morning and every night.

You want to roll your eyes. His antics are those of an angst ridden teenager. You don’t give him what he wants, what he expects. You don’t coddle him and sweetly console him. You respond with careful indifference as you break eye contact to stare at the balcony ledge once more. “It doesn’t suit you.”

For a moment Loki regards you with a question in his eyes. You’ve stolen his thunder and his turmoil, leaving him with nothing. He changes the subject. “You don’t look like you hail from Vanaheim.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

He lets his illusion fall away. Your quiet acceptance sparking a hint of envy in his soul. Once more his eyes shift to the floor above, staring through it and into his own thoughts. “Neither does your short friend,” he remarks, picturing you and the rest of your team. You two were the only ones out of place amongst the obvious Vanaheim blood.

“His blood is from Alfheim,” you reply simply. Your voice sounded far away, even to your own ears.

“And yours?” he questions.

“I’m not sure.”

The pair of you sit in silence. You were as much of a mystery to him as he was to you, though neither of you would admit it. The both of you were not used to being the one with a limited amount of information.

A knock on the large library doors rouses both of you from your thoughts.

“Brother?” Thor calls from the other side. His knocks are polite, like a formality learned through painful lessons after unannounced intrusions.  

You glance at the forlorn Prince at your side. Determined to leave a more favorable impression you call out to him. He turns to you, eyes meeting yours with lingering questions.

Possessed by some outside force and the need to memorize how he feels beneath your touch, you reach out and lightly play with a lock of his raven hair. He doesn’t flinch ~~which was weird since he seemed like the type of person who hated an intrusion of personal space~~.

“Brother are you in there?” Thor’s voice warns.

You grin with mischief enough to rival the god before you. He responds in kind, though a tilt of his head betrays the curiosity playing just behind his amused expression.

“Blond really isn’t your color.”

Thor enters the room. He still sports a light blush from the copious amounts of alcohol running through his system though he walks like a sober man. The party was winding down. He glances at his brother, leaning carefully against the library main table with attention turned opposite him.

He is alone.

Loki plays with the remnants of lovely purple smoke with his right hand, watching it swirl and dance around his fingers in a playful taunt. A ghost of a smile tugs on the corners of his lips.

_He was beginning to loathe this color._

“I had a feeling you would be shut in here by yourself,” Thor remarks, knowingly.

“Ever the observant one, aren’t you?” replies Loki with that familiar hint of sarcasm. He turns towards his brother, pushing up off the table with ease.

“There is more to life than books, Loki,” Thor holds open the library doors, inviting his brother to join him. “Now is the time socialize, meet new people and make new friends.”

Loki walks towards his brother, that ever present smirk lingering on his lips. “New friends?” he lets out a low chuckle tinged with regret. “That implies that one must have some to begin with.”

The two leave the library, the candles going out in farwell at Loki’s exit. Thor drapes a large arm around his brothers shoulders, pulling him close. He knew better than to continue down where this conversation was leading. He changed the subject like a good man. “By the way, Loki, did you ever get your weapon back from that Vanaheim witch?”

Loki paused mid step and cast his glance back towards the library doors, breaking his brothers half embrace. Running a hand through his hair he lets out an amused chuckle, his shoulders shaking with real mirth; the ideal shift from his bitter earlier tones. “No, brother, not yet. But I will.”

_Loki - 2, Eris - 1_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you to everyone who has been so kind to leave Kudos and Comments! They've really help me stay energized and enthused about this story. Please feel free to leave more! Let me know what you think so far and what you'd like to see. Maybe I'll be able to fit it into this story ;3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next comes more plot!
> 
> Don't worry, darlings, more Loki will be just around the corner!


	6. Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, Calder was the one to break the ice. “I’m glad you made it,” he said with sincerity. You smiled thankfully, folding your arms under your bosom. He raised an eyebrow, noting the lack of weapon lodged between them. “You’ve returned the dagger to His Highness?” Calder elaborated, gesturing at your exposed and empty cleavage.
> 
> “I didn’t really have a chance,” you shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “He took it from me.”

It wasn’t often that your intel was wrong. Actually, it was never wrong. Aside from your unit, Vanaheim prided themselves on only one other; the Fjalarr. While the skill of your team revolved around executing missions with meticulously gathered intelligence, the Fjalarr were the ones who _obtained_ that meticulously gathered intelligence. They spent months in the field mapping out the correct floor plans, the schedule of their targets, the timing of security, and studied everything about any threats that may impede the mission _you_ would execute.The Fjalarr were a very thorough unit that prided themselves on a perfect record. A record that, until today, stood as untouched as a blushing virgin.

_I suppose every cherry has to pop sometime._

If it wasn’t your mission they fucked up on you might be laughing. The Eyaer and Fjalarr had a very competitive history, like siblings born minutes apart, forever trying to prove their worth over the other. While your unit was the favored child that got all the glory, they were the bitter sibling that felt unappreciated and always had _something_ to fight about. To be fair, you wouldn’t be able to execute your instructions to their fullest potential without them, but they didn’t need to complain about their lack of recognition in every conversation. If they wanted the glory then they should have stepped up. Their constant efforts to demean you and your team left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, they were good at their job, but you’d never in a million years say thank you to _those_ pricks.

_Well, they_ **_were_ ** _good at their job._

Some things get sweeter the more you savor them.

A newfound grin playing delicately on your lips, you plucked your trophy from between your breasts and tucked it securely in the thigh strap under your dress. It felt rather uncomfortable between your thighs, like the amulet at first, but the other option was to be reamed by your Captain for not returning the Princes bloody property in a timely fashion. You could deal with the intrusion. Besides, you’d give it back it later. ~~Or maybe you wouldn’t~~. Honestly people just didn’t know how to have fun these days.  


During the festivities every realm received their own designated area of the palace that would serve as their temporary home for the duration of their stay. Odin’s idea of taking, “You each have a place within these walls,” quite literally. The diplomats however, received their own section of the palace where they would be free to mingle and plot as their pleased. Though generous, it also served as a way for the Allfather to showcase his wealth and power.

My house is bigger than your house.

~~Men~~. _Gods_.

Approaching the doors to the Vanaheim reserved section of the palace, you smoothed down the sides of your dress, paying special attention to the side with the newly concealed item. You shifted your legs to get accustomed to the foreign feeling between them until you were satisfied, noting that you’d need to change your walk slightly to make room for the lengthy blade. If only you needed to shift your gait for other, more devious reasons…

_Get your head out of the gutter._

Shaking the thoughts of what you assumed would be one _memorable_ encounter out of your head ~~temporarily~~ , you placed a delicate hand on each of the double doors to the Vanaheim common room. You could hear voices on the other side of the door; Calder and the twins arguing about something per usual. As nostalgic thoughts began to form, your arrogant grin dissipated into a genuine smile. Moments like these reminded you of what it was like back home, during those rare breaks from training, missions, and conditioning that allowed you to have what you assumed must resemble a normal life; a free life.

You shifted your weight forward and pushed the doors open. ~~Was the weight of these things really necessary?~~ Their voices hit you like wave.

“-they won’t even know it’s missing,” explained Sylvi. She was standing with her back to you, her sister not too far away.

Syri didn’t waste any time before adding on to what you assumed was a well thought out argument. “We’ll only take what they won’t notice. Scouts honor.”

Sylvi elbowed her sister abruptly, casting her a dark look.“Syri, we were never scouts. Stop helping.”

“I was just making a joke!” Syri pouted.

Sylvi rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Calder who sat in the center of a three cushion couch, his fingers massaging his temples as he eyed the two with exhaustion clearly written across his features. He was breaking.

“Please, Calder-”

“Absolutely not,” sighed the man.

It wouldn’t be long before the twins got what they wanted. Poor Calder.

He always did put up a valiant fight.   


The three were so absorbed in their argument that only Einar acknowledged your presence. And by acknowledge I mean he spared you a single glance from the book he was reading before promptly returning back to it.

Yup, this felt like home.

Wait a tick.

You doubled back and stared at the item between Einars pale hands. Just as you thought; an elaborately decorated book rested delicately between them.

He had found the library.

When did he go to the library?

_When did he go to the library?_

Fuck.

Double fuck.

As if reading your thoughts ~~because honestly you wouldn’t put it past him~~ Einar once more glanced up from his novel, but this time his eyes held yours in that eerie ‘I know what you did’ sort of way. That stare that looked right into your soul and saw your deepest secrets. If he did know you still had the dagger, then lying would prove not only difficult, but grounds for treason if he decided to mention it.

Confidently you held his gaze and desperately tried to clear your mind, emptying all thoughts of your encounter with the Prince and how much he may or may not have seen. Instead you tried to focus your attention on the amulet and attribute the nerves you know he must be reading off of you, to that. It _was_ a creepy piece of jewelry and it _did_ give you the heebie jeebies so it wasn’t exactly a stretch.

Sylvi’s voice broke the tension between the two of you as she continued to argue her point with your Captain. “Okay, how about two bottles and I’ll get them from the kitchen myself? No witnesses.”

Einar broke eye contact first causing you to sigh in relief and eagerly avert your gaze to the twins. The empath slowly turned a page of his book, brows knitting together in concentration. He had not missed the tension ease from your shoulders.

It was at this moment that Calder seemed to notice your presence. Not wanting to continue his conversation with the twins, he used you as an escape. You offered a small smile and a wave to match which seemed to brighten him up considerably. “Eris, Einar tells me the mission went well,” he shifted his position on the couch, inviting you over.

You glanced at Einar. He did not move his attention from the book in his hands. You returned your attention to Calder and took his offer, joining him on the couch. Crossing your legs, you made sure the fabric of your dress covered the skin of your thighs. Einar took note. You weren’t one for modesty.

“As if there was any doubt that it wouldn’t,” you smirk, leaning back into the plush of the couch. It was so much more comfortable than the furniture back home. You made a mental note to enjoy every piece of it while you were here.

An image of the Dark Prince pressing you against the bookshelves in the library flashed in your minds eye. You licked your lips, suddenly dry as your skin warmed.

Yes. You needed to thoroughly enjoy every grand surface this palace had to offer. _And you knew exactly who could give you the VIP tour._

“Confidence is great but a healthy dose of humility is better,” Calder warned.

You felt your mood sour only slightly at the interruption to your deviant fantasies. Rolling your eyes, you spoke without thinking. “That part of conditioning never took,” you said flatly.

Everyone exchanged uncomfortable glances except for Einar who only hardened his eyes at the paragraph he was reading.

You sighed, not intending the comment to land the way it did.

_Even if it was the truth._

Fear took; fear took well. But you wouldn’t give humility to those who you did not earn your respect.

As always, Calder was the one to break the ice. “I’m glad you made it,” he said with sincerity. You smiled thankfully, folding your arms under your bosom. He raised an eyebrow, noting the lack of weapon lodged between them. “How was your run in with the Prince?”

_What?_

“You’ve returned the dagger to His Highness?” Calder elaborated, gesturing at your exposed and empty cleavage.

_Thank the gods._

Though he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could feel Einar using his peripheral vision to stare you down, waiting for your answer.

On one hand you could assume that Einar knew about your little encounter with the Prince in the library. On the other hand you could assume that he _thought_ he knew something but didn’t really have the details to know exactly _what_ that was. Either way, you had the option to come clean or take a gamble on the chance that he wouldn’t rat you out in front of the others.

You decided to take a gamble. Ever the risk taker.

“I didn’t really have a chance,” you shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “He took it from me.”

“He what?” exclaimed Sylvi, hurrying over to take the seat beside you.

Syri was not far behind, and in seconds you were squished between a set of overly enthusiastic twins and a flustered Captain, trying his best to remain professional when the his prized personal space was compromised. You held the slit of your dress closed throughout the interaction as subtle as possible. “You were bested by an _illusionist?_ ” she asked, leaning over even more.

Your shoulder slipped over Calders in an attempt to preserve your own personal space. “He’s not just an illusionist,” you retorted. “He’s an incredibly skilled sorcerer.”

Calders upper body leaned half off the couch in response, all the while smashed between you and the increasingly side pinching arm of the elaborate sofa. “That’s impossible,” he winced, trying his best to adjust to no avail. “The Fjalarr reported-”

You rolled your eyes and shoved the twins roughly to reclaim some semblance of space for you and your Captain. They tumbled over each other and made noises of indignation as they collided with the other arm of the sofa. “The Fjalarr were misguided,” you snapped.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Calder straightened his posture and moved away from the dreaded sofa arm. Casting a small glare at the cause of his pain, he responded with little interest, having grown accustomed to your team throwing insults at the arrogant intelligence unit. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Loki knew he was being watched,” you stressed.

“Loki?” Calder glared disapprovingly. “You’re on a first name basis with him now?”

“Calder would you listen to me?-” You pushed yourself up from the couch and faced him with a scowl- “I’m saying everything the Fjalarr may have reported could be compromised. He knew he was being watched and intentionally fed them incorrect information. Who knows what else in that report was subject to the same treatment?”

Calder shot you a stern look. “The Fjalarr were observing the palace for months. Are you telling me he led our best spies into believing lies and kept up the facade for that long?”

“I’m saying he has a lot of time on his hands and not much to occupy it,” you retorted, shifting your weight to one side and placing your hands on your hips for emphasis.

“Not anymore he doesn’t,” Calder muttered more to himself than anyone. That didn’t mean it wasn’t unheard.

_Oh no, he didn’t._

The twins gasped, falling deadly silent afterwards for fear of missing the drama. You were starting to see too much red to notice. What the fuck kind of answer was that?

“Care to elaborate, Captain?” you hissed.

Calder returned your icy glare with calm and composed authority. “I’m saying you seem to be spending an awful lot of time around someone that isn’t your _target_.”

You were practically fuming at this point. “If I hadn’t been spending so much time around him, we never would have known our intel was compromised!”

At the sudden venom in your voice, Calder seemed to be consider your point. Rarely were you cross without good reason. You took the chance to continue. “We don’t know what else in that report that may be wrong, or who else may have known they were being observed. I’m sorry, Calder‐” you sighed, letting your anger dissipate before wrapping your arms around yourself in an apologetic gesture- “I only got involved with him to right the wrongs I committed.”

You wouldn’t mention that little part about how your body screamed for his touch or how his body seemed to reciprocate.

Best to keep that part a secret.

Letting out a sigh of his own, Calder stood to meet you. Tucking a strand of silky hair behind your ear, he traced your jawline down to your chin. He lifted your head a little higher so that your eyes would meet his. “We need you focused,” he began softly. “I hear what you’re saying and if it's true-”

“It is,” you pleaded.

“Then we need to be on our guard even more. The mission tonight was not the end of our orders.”

At his words all eyes, even Einars, shifted to his tall figure.

“What else is there?” asked Sylvi hesitantly. Clearly she, and you were willing to bet the rest of you, were unnerved about being kept in the dark.

Calder dropped his hand from your face and made his way to the side of the couch, choosing to lean against it rather than take a seat and compromise his personal space once more. “Senator Egil will be here shortly to expla-”

Three abrupt and direct knocks on the door interrupted the conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” you mumbled. Syri snickered at your comment, causing you to smirk.

At least someone had a sense of humor.  


Senator Egil strolled in as gracefully as the grim reaper. His ceremonial robes ghosting over his shoes, giving him the impression he was gliding rather than walking. A confident grin was set in place that only stretched wider the second his steely eyes set themselves on you. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep a shiver from running up your spine. He didn’t like you. He found you to be disrespectful and flippant, but you got the job done. If he was smiling at you it was not in your best interest.

“My dear,” he cooed and you vomited internally. “If you’re here I assume you were successful in your mission?”

“And if I wasn’t?”

His eyes narrowed and his grin receded. Did you say that out loud?

Calder pursed his lips and covered his eyes with one hand in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

I guess you did.

_Well this was going to be painful._

Egil glided over to where you ~~barely~~ stood, bringing a chill with him that seeped into your pores and froze your bones solid. Mimicking Calder’s earlier actions, Egil placed a cold hand on your cheek and traced your jaw with the utmost care. While Calder’s touch seemed to bring calm to the storm in your mind, Egil’s filled you with such dread it make your mind go blank. You held your breath. No one came to your aid. Why would they? They knew better.

His thumb and index finger captured your chin, applying just enough pressure to raise your eyesight to his icy gaze. He towered over you with such presence it was almost suffocating. Years of conditioning worked their magic as your eyes averted downwards in fear. Though you couldn’t see it, Egil grinned in response. “If you were to fail your mission, my dear, then home is not where you would be returning.”

The threat was well received. Memories of cutting shackles and cold tables began to flicker behind your eyes. Mouth dry, you could only let out a unsteady exhale in confirmation.

You felt the pad of his thumb gently caress the flesh under your chin. “Now where is my prize, Eris?”

You nervously stepped away from his touch and licked your dry lips, fiddling with the hem of the slit of your dress. Shyly, you turned at just the right angle so that he wouldn’t see the skin of your thighs when you retrieved the stolen amulet. The others averted their gaze, giving you proper privacy while also happy to look anywhere but at the tragedy unfolding before them. Einar was the last to look away but in that second he caught a glimpse of something gold under your dress as you reached for the item Egil desired. The amulet held no gold upon its design. Eyes now focused on his book once more, his thoughts were filled with something akin to disappointment. He now had a choice to make. Goodie.

You retrieved the amulet easily enough, hesitating only slightly as your knuckles brushed against the warm metal of the concealed dagger. Dark thoughts threatened to enter your mind at the touch of the weapon but you pushed them back as forcefully as you could. Though Egil was not part of your collective, Einar would be able to read your intentions and easily report your treachery.

Though Einar was admittedly your friend, he was first and foremost a soldier. You all were.

Which begged the question, why were you acting the way you were?

You knew better.

Something just felt _wrong_.

You couldn’t ignore it even if you wanted to. From the moment the plan deviated from the script to the instant your eyes locked onto that strange relic dangling from your fingertips; that basic instinct of self preservation kicked into overdrive. _~~And gods was it stifling~~! _ You noticed _everything_ ; body language, tone of voice, shifting of eyes, words chosen.

Everything was _screaming_.

Run.

Flee.

_Escape_.

_But why?_

Before you could even hand Egil the amulet, the man in question snatched it from you hands far too enthusiastically for your paranoia. His eyes greedily took in its every detail. From your peripheral vision, the twins exchanged a look you could only determine as unease. If Egil was excited, it was bad news for the lot of you.

You took the chance to move closer to Calder. The twins took your lead and did the same, grouping you all together, huddled almost like apprehensive children. You wondered if the any of the others had questions like you did.

Why the change of plans?

Why the secrecy?

Why was Egil so excited about an old relic?

What was our role in all this?

What was next?

And for some reason… _Who was going to die?_

_‘It’s not our job to question,’_ Einars voice coolly responded in your head for your mind alone to hear. _‘Trust our value, exceed their expectations, and keep them needing us. That is how we avoid being expendable. Questions are the bricks that will form the road to our damnation.’_

His somber words sobered your thoughts. He was right. Questions led to the path of expendability. You would repeat his words like a mantra before bed tonight.

The group of you turned your full attention to Senator Egil who stood before you like the angel of death. Though none of you would admit to each other, you all swore you saw his shadow shift while his body remained still.

His continued presence only meant one thing. It was time for your new assignment.

And yet that quiet voice in the deepest recesses of your mind continued to rock, and weep, and shake; chanting words you didn’t understand but recognizing the urge to survive all the same.

Jeg vil ikke dø.

_Jeg vil ikke dø._

**_Jeg vil ikke dø._ **

 

I don’t want to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoyed this chapter where we got a little more insight into our dear Eris and some things that may be touched upon later.
> 
> Please excuse the translation if it's incorrect. I used google translate because the internet is a wonderful and convenient thing.
> 
> As always, comment and let me know what you think! I love Kudos and all sorts of love!
> 
> You all give me life <3


	7. Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you would, my Lord. Who is the ‘they’ we should be considering when going forward?”
> 
> A small grin crept its way onto Egil’s face, meaning this was no good for any of you. He almost seemed to take pleasure in the difficulty of the task ahead. When he spoke, tones of malice mixed with pleasure threaded every syllable. It was the kind of tone one used when finally getting the upper hand over a hated rival.
> 
> “The members of the Asgard royal family.”
> 
> Hel No.

If there was a real devil, Senator Egil would be the living embodiment. Long and lean, this version of the devil wore robes of black and purple etched with gold as opposed to the classic all red getup that Midgardians seemed to prefer. He stood with pin straight posture and an overextended back that had him tilt just a little too far the wrong way. Chin raised to the heavens, this devil and his towering height always had a way of seeming more superior than he really was. If a sneer wasn’t seen on his severe features, a scowl was the sure runner up.

Egil fancied himself upper crust; elite. He donned himself with the finest material and wore his elaborately decorated scarf at any chance he could, draped over his shoulders like a false saint. In front of others he was humble and intelligent. Behind closed doors and drawn curtains he was a viper, armed with a sharp tongue and lethal intentions.   

He never touched you or your comrades. He didn’t need to. He wasn’t the sort to get his hands dirty. Instead he supplied the ideas behind your conditioning while others carried out his instructions. Supervising was more his forte, making sure his methods yielded results for his master. Yes, Egil was a lacky. A very high on the food chain lacky, but a lacky nonetheless. There was only one his superior, Royal Senator Eirik. The voice behind the puppet king and real ruler of Vanaheim.

Senator Eirik was the only being Egil seemed to ~~fear~~ respect. Like a good dog he constantly sought the approval of his master. Based upon the crawling grin that curled the corners of his lips into a twisted expression and the obsessed look in his ice blue eyes as he stared at the stolen amulet, this action would surely get his belly scratched. Whatever plot that amulet was involved in was no good, of that you were certain.

How unfortunate that you didn’t get a say in the matter.

For the longest time you and your comrades held your breath, not daring to interrupt the boner Egil must be getting from his victory; _your_ victory.

You elbowed Calder a ~~little too forcefully~~ lightly as none of you could tear your eyes from the uncomfortable spector before you. At the ~~sharp jab~~  gentle insistence that he bring Egil back to reality, Calder straightened his posture and put on his best Captain face. His tone matched the persona perfectly.

“My Lord,” Calder began, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the mild tremor that possessed them. “We await your orders, sir.”

The rest of you mimicked Calder’s improved posture, straightening up like good little soldiers. Even Einar had risen from his seated position and joined the rest of you.

Waking from his trance like state, Egil cleared his throat and let his twisted expression dissolve into his trademark scowl. He lifted the amulet and let it drop around his head, coming to rest ceremoniously around his neck. With such an old and ornate piece of jewelry accessorizing his robes, his look blurred between devout false priest and decorated cult leader.

Egil’s long digits threaded together as he gave your team his full attention. “You have done exceedingly well. A congratulations of a job well done.”

Great. He was buttering you up. You knew well enough not to let the praise lift your spirits. His honey words always preceded his viper venom. You really wish he would just get to the point, stop with the false pleasantries, and tell you what deep shit you were all in.

“Despite your earlier unfortunate set back, you all managed to come through as expected,” his eyes came to rest on you. Joy. “Even you, Eris. But I suppose that’s part of you _charm_ isn’t it?”

It took all you had to keep your face neutral.

_Resting bitch face don’t fail me now!_

Your thoughts however, were a different monster entirely. _‘Are we just not going to mention that weird change of plans from earlier, then?’_

Egil, unaware of your internal struggle, continued his drawn out ~~totally not to hear his own voice~~ debriefing. Hands clasped behind him, he regarded you all with a serious and almost fatherly expression. It in no way looked or felt genuine, but he gave it a shot anyway. “Your next instruction will require a bit of _creativity_ on your part.”

_‘No one? Just me then? Is this thing on?’_

_‘Eris, will you shut up?’_ replied Calder with a lilt of exasperation.

 _‘I know we were all thinking it,’_ you shot back.

_‘Some of us have the sense to censor our thoughts.’_

_‘A skill you should consider improving,’_ added Sylvi ~~unnecessarily~~.

“Am I interrupting something?” Egil paused, analyzing you each in turn. Though he wasn’t part of the collective that bound your minds together, he quickly learned how to pick up on the signs when his students weren’t paying attention. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the ability to meld with your minds, Einar could open a bridge with whomever he chose, it was the simple fact that he didn’t want to be any closer to the rest of you than necessary. Just as you all didn’t like him, he didn’t like you. It was strictly a business relationship and he’d be damned if he’d subject himself to listening to your idle chatter. Besides, Calder was trained well. He was his eyes and ears within your little group of misfits. If a whisper of disrespect or insubordination passed his senses, Egil would know by morning.

Speaking of the dashing Captain, the blond bowed his head in a gesture of humility, responding to Egil’s intense scrutiny. “No, my Lord,” he spoke with soft assurance. Egils stare lessened.

The rest of your team mastered the art of keeping their faces void of all emotion. You did your best to keep up, but the fire in your eyes always seemed to betray you. This time was no different. Maybe you really should put in more time practicing and less time fraternizing with the enemy.

_Was he your enemy?_

Egils icy eyes met your almost neutral expression. Perfectly blank except the sarcasm that seem to bleed from your mind and escape through the windows of your soul. Egils stare worsened. You weren’t fooling anyone.

Einar was right. If you weren’t so good at your job you’d be dead by now. That much was evident in the hatred radiating through the spector before you.

Said spector paused for a moment, eyes still boring into yours. Perhaps deciding if you were in fact worth the trouble you caused him. If only he could condition you as well as the others. Your ability to not be tied down unless you wanted to be made that infuriating difficult. Drugging you was the only way he was able to get you to stay still. He constantly wondered if there was an easier way to keep you solid, to keep you from running.

Filing that train of thought away for another time, Egil finally turned away from you and addressed the group, though you had a sneaking suspicion his words were only meant for your ears. “I’d rather not repeat myself, so if you have something you’d like to say, _say it_.”

Code for _‘I-fucking-swear-if-you-say-a-damn-word-I’ll-smite-you-down-myself.’_

Don’t you just love hidden messages?

Calder immediately piped into the collective. _‘Eris, don’t you dare.’_

You wanted to roll your eyes. Did they think you had a death wish? _‘I’m not daft. Clearly, that was Egil speak for ‘shut the Hel up’. You can trust me.’_

 _‘Can we?’_ Einar commented. It was more of a statement than a question.

Ouch. That stung.

No more commentary from you today. The tension in the room seemed almost tangible.

“What would you have us do, my Lord?” Calder to the rescue.

Egil turned his attention to Calder, his whole demeanor shifting into one of professionalism. Time for business. Finally. “This obscene festival concludes in six days. This is the time frame you must work within, though the sooner you complete your tasks, the better.”

“Tasks, my Lord?” Calder questioned, catching the plural that set you and the rest of your team on edge.

You had no prior plan. No detailed set of instructions. No time to work with.

And yet he expected you to complete multiple tasks, _plural_ , within those parameters?

Saint Fuckboy better have a list of the worlds easiest missions up his ass.

“You are to collect four items before the festival concludes. Each of these items must bare some importance to their owner, something their masters feed their psychic energy into; a prized possession for example, not some petty trinket.”

“Like a ring they wear daily?” inquired Calder.

“Indeed,” confirmed Egil. “Though it need not be something of great wealth. Something they value and use often will work just as well, if not better.”

‘Work better for what?’ was the unasked question lingering in the air, but Calder settled for the other, more realistic question plaguing your minds. “If you would, my Lord. Who is the ‘they’ we should be considering when going forward?”

A small grin crept its way onto Egil’s face, meaning this was no good for any of you. He almost seemed to take pleasure in the difficulty of the task ahead. When he spoke, tones of malice mixed with pleasure threaded every syllable. It was the kind of tone one used when finally getting the upper hand over a hated rival.

“The members of the Asgard royal family.”

 _Hel_ _No_.

Nope.

Nope-idy No.

Nope Town. Population: You.

Even if you managed to get a majority of the items from the Allmother and her beloved sons, and that was a big _if_ , how could even entertain the idea of taking something precious from Odin Allfather?

This was a suicide mission. They were setting you up like lambs for the slaughter.

Loki’s playful words of warning surfaced to the edge of your minds eye, but this time his words echoed with more ominous undertones rather than flirtatious insinuations.

_‘It’s the property of a Prince, theft of which is execution.’_

You already took something from Odin, technically. The amulet that hung comfortably around Egils pale neck. If caught, you would be the one to take the fall for that, that was the rule. You didn’t go down as a team. But perhaps the spoils from your initial mission could help aid you in your current situation. That might almost make it worth it.

Almost.

Calder seemed to follow your similar train of thought. “My Lord, Perhaps the amulet taken from Odin’s vault may serve as his item? He values his treasures as much as his sons.”

Egil’s shoulders tensed at Calder's suggestion. Curious.

He fiddled with the base of the amulet as if to reassure himself that it hadn’t vanished. “This item is unrelated.”

Yeah, that would be too easy.

Taking the ‘no’ like a champ, Calder continued undeterred. “Then what would you suggest, my Lord?”

Dropping his hands away from the stolen relic, Egil returned them to rest behind his back. “I leave that in your capable hands,” he responded simply.

_Meaning, he had no fucking idea._

“Of course,” Calder agreed. He really was a well trained soldier.

Wanting to reward his good behavior, Egil offered up a different suggestion. He turned his attention to you. You knew where this was going.

“Eris,” he cooed, and honestly it was the creepiest sounding tone ever to come out of that man. “Do you still have the Princes dagger in your possession?”

“I do not.”  Lie.

“I returned it to its rightful owner as ordered.” Lie.

“If I had known, I would have kept it on my person.” Almost lie? If you hadn’t already dug your own grave earlier, you would have ponied up the weapon. Right?

_Right?_

Egil frowned, counting on your defiance. Completely ignoring the fact that just hours ago he adamantly wanted you to return it. He didn’t like to dwell on being wrong.

“With all due respect, Lord Egil.-” Einar spoke up. “-Utilizing something so publicly taken may have drawn too much attention.”

Egil nodded. “That is something to consider. The less our actions are tracked, the better.”

“Speaking of which,” Calder added. “For the following days, are we still being shielded from the Guardians gaze?”

Once more, Egil nodded. A wave of relief washed through the group of you. At least something was going your way. “Yes, Heimdall will not see your actions for the duration of the festival. However, that is as long as I can stretch my strength. Your time frame, therefore, remains inflexible.”

“Understood,” echoed Calder.

“I expect swift results,” Egil announced, turning on his heel to leave. “Take tonight to plan the following days. Do not fail.”

With that, the spector of death took his departure, leaving the group of you in heavy contemplation.

 

You’d never had a mission where you were so utterly unprepared.

“How hard can this be?” Sylvi broke the ice with sarcasm. It was either that or with hopelessness. Sarcasm you could do, the other you didn’t think you could stomach. You didn’t think anyone could right now.

“Steal from the royal family,” Syri groaned. “Sure, that will go over well.”

“Steal something that they’ll notice when it’s gone,” you clarified. “There’s something strange going on.”

No one cared to comment on that last bit. Figures.

“Alright. Let’s walk through each of the targets and get an idea of what we can procure,” Calder offered rationally. This is why he was the leader. He kept you scatterbrained fools focused.

“They’re not _just_ targets, Calder,” argued Sylvi with a frown. “They’re the most powerful family in all the nine realms.”

“No one is unbeatable,” remarked your Captain, pointedly.

You eyed him with a healthy dose of realism. “Not even us.”

Calder sent you a heaping dose of side eye at the comment. Rather than engage down the road to _that_ conversation, he elected to continue as if your comment never happened, knowing that that alone would get his point across. “The Allfather has many relics, treasures, and prized possessions. But what does he hold dear? What matters to a god who has everything and wants for nothing?”

He was right. ~~Yes, about the whole Allfather analysis but that’s not what we’re talking about here~~. His careful sidestepping and choice to ignore your pessimistic comment stung more that you cared to admit; but he was right all the same. You were already facing an incredibly uphill battle. Reminding everyone of the dangers unnecessarily would only put you at a further disadvantage.

Apparently Calder's open question was a rhetorical one, for no one cared to comment. Hearts were heavy with doubt and uncertainty, of insecurities and the sudden very _real_ possibility of failure; of death or worse. He did his best to move the energy along but it was too late. Your words, brief though they were, carried a weight that tethered their feet to the ground and filled their hearts with lead.

Calder was a wonderful leader. He was strong willed, just, understanding, and incredibly clever. He always had the right speech for just right moment.

But this time his speech never came. Instead he let the question hang in the air with the rest of you, letting the gravity of the situation really sink into your bones while you considered for the first time that you were in over your head.

This was the moment that they began to question. Like you.

Einars words echoed in the forefront of your mind. _‘It’s not our job to question,’_ he had warned. _‘Trust our value, exceed their expectations, and keep them needing us. That is how we avoid being expendable._

_‘Questions are the bricks that form the road to our damnation.’_

You had to say something.

 _You_ pushed them over the edge.

 _You_ made them self aware.

 _You made them question_.

But what could you say when what they were feeling - _thinking_ \- is what festered in the recesses of your mind from day to day? You weren’t Calder; a leader who brought back the spirits of his men from the depths of despair with honeyed words of encouragement. You were about as far away from Calder on the spectrum of positive reinforcement as Einar.

But perhaps you didn’t need to be like him.

“Trust our value,” you said aloud, cutting the air thick with doubt. Einar eyed you from his curtain of silvery locks, the familiarity of your words not lost on him. Though positive reinforcement was not quite in your repertoire, harsh truths certainly were. This you could give. This you could provide. “Trust our value and exceed their expectations. They are a powerful family are they not? A powerful family that has grown accustomed to lavish parties and golden palaces!”-you gestured wildly to the grand pillars and decorative walls that made up the confines of the room with outstretched arms- “When was the last time they truly felt threatened? Threatened enough to keep their guard up and their eyes sharp?

“They have become complacent in their comfort and lazy in their riches.” All eyes were on you now. You could have sworn you saw Calder crack a smile. You were _winning_. “Their security is lacking, unable to see through basic deception techniques. Even their guardian can be blinded!”

Calder took the chance to continue your efforts. “We believe it will be impossible because it _should_ be impossible,” he said with a new found enthusiasm. Flashing you a grin, you knew you had redeemed yourself.

“Yes!” you proclaimed, riding on the high of the moment. Was this what it was like to lead? “We have had no lavish lifestyles to make us complacent. Our pain only sharpened what their comforts have dulled.”

“Odin has birds that he keeps near him at all times,” Syri suggested, a new found energy in her previously glazed eyes.

Her sister was not far behind in her idea. “He stokes their inky feathers idly like a subconscious reflex.”

This was good. It’s amazing what a bit of confidence could do.

“We wouldn’t need much, maybe only a feather from one of them?” Sylvi continued, eyes alight with that cleverness that was so essentially _her_.

“It’s a start,” Calder agreed with his boyish grin back firmly in place.

“And the others?” Einar inquired. Always the one with the tough questions.

“The festivities tomorrow night will provide us with the perfect opportunity to observe the rest of our targets,” Sylvi mentioned. She nodded at her sister who, as always, was perfectly in sync with her train of thought.

“We look for subtle hints of what they might hold in high regard,” Syri concluded.

“That will leave us five days to plan and execute the mission,” warned Einar. “But I suppose a necessary step nonetheless. It would be unwise to go about this blindly.”

“So much for the Fjalarr and their useless information,” snickered Syri.

“To be fair, they were probably kept in the dark as much as we were,” reminded Calder.

“It’s unfortunate that we don’t have the Princes dagger,” Einar commented blandly. Your pulse quickened at the knowing look he gave you. “That would have made this one step simpler.”

“Indeed,” agreed Calder. He turned towards your short companion. “But you were right in suggesting that it might not be in our best interest to use that item.”

You fought the urge to fiddle with the hemed slit of your dress. Pulse quickening ever faster, you settled for crossing your arms to soothe your rapid heartbeat. “There are other things he treasures more than a petty weapon, I’m sure,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “He’s so pretentious. I’m willing to bet he has hundreds of items he’s possessive of.”

Einar eyed you skeptically. “Let’s hope you’re right,” he warned. You held his steady gaze unwavering, desperate to appear unaware of his scrutiny.

How much did he know?

Unknowingly, Calder broke up the tension between the two of you. “As suggested, tomorrow we gather as much information as we can. Bring all your observations back here at the nights conclusion and we’ll have a better idea of what we’re looking for.” He eyed you all with a semi serious expression. “And if any of you get the chance to swipe a feather from those birds, take it. We could use all the opportunity we can get.”

“Understood,” nodded the group of you.

This might actually work. Could you actually succeed in this suicide mission?

“Dismissed,” ordered Calder. You all took your leave, presumably heading towards your designated sleeping chambers.

Though your spirits were considerably more lifted than earlier, a nagging question still pulled at the edge of your consciousness that kept you grounded in reality.

What did these desired items and that amulet have in common?

 _‘Eris,’_ a voice echoed in your awareness. Einar spoke to you without actually speaking to you, heading in the direction of the rooms double doors as the rest of your team. _‘May I speak with you privately?’_

Yup, you were in trouble. This night was going to get a lot worse before it got better. _‘Of course,’_ you replied as nonchalantly as possible. _‘Anything in particular on your mind?’_

Einar didn’t miss a beat. _‘We’ll start with the dagger between your legs.’_

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hello! Here we are, phase 1 of the overarching plot! This is so exciting!
> 
> I know there hasn't been a lot of Loki so far, but much more of him will come. We need this to really set up things that will happen later.
> 
> One more chapter stands between you and the Loki goodness. (I know I said chapter 8 in the comments but something came up and it felt really disjointed, but we will get there!)
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who comments or leaves kudos! For you ghost readers out there who like to lurk, I appreciate you too!
> 
> Please let me know what you think or even better, where you think this will go! I love theories!
> 
> Kisses, darlings! See you next time!


	8. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eris,” Einar sighed, “I don’t know what path you’re walking but I will warn you, you will not succeed.” He pushed himself off the wall and turned, his back facing you. “The road you’re traveling is not one I will journey with you.”

“This is the part where you explain yourself,” Einar crossed his arms and stared at you with his trademark bored expression. He was the master at keeping cool; something you were always envious of.

Your team had all gone their separate ways. Calder to the the room he would be sharing with Einar, and the twins had no doubt gone to grab a bottle ~~or three~~  of mead before returning to the room that would serve as your combined living quarters for the duration of your stay.

Einar had pulled you to the side, ducking into one of the many hallways where your conversation could be private. He had you hook, line, and sinker. With his incredible perception ~~and unfair advantage~~  there were no secrets that could stay hidden for long. The two of you leaned against the wall beside each other like old friends.

You mimicked his movements and crossed your arms as well, but rather than look into his eyes you instead chose to train them straight ahead, glued to the wall opposite you. A phantom image of the Dark Prince smirked back at you, his posture similar to yours but with a foot casually propped up against the walls surface. He was laughing at you. Even your own imagination knew you were screwed. You made no attempt to shake the image from you mind. Looking at something so attractive might make this conversation a little more bearable.

“It won’t,” Einar said into the void of silence you created. His eyes moved towards the direction where your imaginary phantom stood, and though he couldn’t see him with his own eyes, Einar read your thoughts with perfect clarity.

“Would you stop that?” you snapped, “For just one moment I’d like some peace in my own head.”

“Can’t do that,” Einar replied flatly.

You let out a sound close to a groan and let your head fall back against the wall, eyes closed and brows knitted in frustration. “I intend to return it,” you sighed.

“Do you?” questioned Einar. He pulled his gaze away from your figment and turned his neck to the side, eyes trained intently on you. “Because you haven’t given me any reason to believe your claims.”

His words hurt. They hurt because they were right.

“I’ve got this under control,” was your response. You didn’t. It sounded weak even to your ears.

Einar instantly picked up on it. His eyes never wavering, he bit back. “For your sake I hope you do.”

You said nothing. You hated when he made a point.

“This isn’t a game anymore, Eris,” he continued. “We’re in no position to take chances. The only way we’ll make it out of here alive is by playing our hand carefully. This is no time for recklessness.” 

  
“You don’t think I know that?” you snapped. Clenching your fists to keep from shaking, you closed your eyes and let out a unsteady breath. “I’m intimately aware of the situation. Telling me how fucked we are isn’t going to help.”

“You’re scared,” Einar pointed out.

“Yes,” you replied. “Aren’t you?”

Eyes unwavering, he continued without missing a beat, “I try not to feel anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh, venomous and cruel. “Right,” you scoffed, “I forgot that you’re hollow inside.”

“It keeps me alive.”

“Are you certain that’s really living?”

For a moment Einar was silent, as if testing the words in his head before he voiced them. When he did speak, it was delicate. “It’s self preservation.”

Your face wrinkled into a sneer to rival even Egil. You directed your words to the phantom across from you, his eyes a place of solace as your rage bubbled beneath the surface. He served as a reminder to your resolve. “If I’m going to die before my time, I’m going to live for more than just ‘self preservation’.”

“Your fear of death will put you in an early grave,” Einar said softly.

“I don’t fear death,” you dismissed with pride.

“You fear the moments you’ll miss if you play it safe,” begins Einar. He doesn’t believe your claims when he can see you practically vibrating with uncertainty under your mask of deflection. He’s reached his limit of being tactful so he continued, cutting with the skill of a surgeon. “So you live recklessly under the guise of self imposed wisdom, running from the reaper you think is on your heels. If you stop and breathe, even for a second, he’ll end you.” Breaking through the wall you’ve built, he bids you to look him in the eyes with his words. You do.

“There is nothing you can do to halt his blade, but you can give him less opportunities to strike. Lying to Egil, to Calder, to me-” for a moment his voice cracked, but he narrowed his eyes and looked away from you instead- “was a door you held open willingly for him.” His lips normally so straight and composed raised ever so slightly in his own sneer. “You even sharpened his scythe.”

His words were humbling, yes, but it was his flicker of actual _emotion_ that caused you pause. The strength of them was enough to break through his own suppression. You stared at him. He cared for your well being that much? Or was it his own fear of death that had him finally come alive? It didn’t matter. Einar showed you something he didn’t mean to display. It didn’t take an empath to know he was ashamed. “Do you think we’ll make it out of here alive?” you asked softly.

Einar willingly took the bait. Just as quickly as it had come, his facade of neutrality returned. “The odds are not stacked in our favor, but I believe we have a chance,” his familiar unfeeling tone returning, he bravely returned your gaze. “I need to believe we have a chance.”

“What abo-”

“No more questions, Eris,” he stressed. “You are a soldier; act like one. Calder was right, we need you focused if we’re to succeed.”

Nodding, you clasped your hands together in front of you. You pursed your lips and let the silence speak the words you couldn’t bear to articulate. You knew he was right and you knew you should respond with some sort of affirmation but you just couldn’t form the words. If you did, it would feel like lying.

“Eris,” Einar sighed, “I don’t know what path you’re walking but I will warn you, you will not succeed.” He pushed himself off the wall and turned, his back facing you. “The road you’re traveling is not one I will journey with you.”

You tried to respond, to say _anything_ but the words wouldn’t come.

He gave you time to form an argument, to say your peace, but when nothing came Einar felt the prickling sting of betrayal lick at his consciousness. “You’ve put me in a compromising position and my patience has its limits,” He turned to you and your eyes widened at his hardened expression. He was doing his best to remain neutral but something akin to hate or resentment was slowing seeping through. His hand outstretched with his palm turned upwards he ordered, “Bring the dagger to the Prince tonight and return to your team a soldier by morning.”

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding and stared him down. Pride told you to knock his hand away and tell him to shove it, but logic begged you to do as he asked. If you returned to your chambers with the knife still on your person, the twins were bound to notice. So instead you opted to roll your eyes and parted your dress at the slit, going to work at undoing the strap around your thigh. Einar let his eyes dart to the side out of habit, but his hand still remained outstretched, waiting.

You figured it was best to not poke the sleeping dragon.

Finished, you returned the dagger to its home between your breasts and forcefully shoved the strap into Einars hands. He narrowed his eyes at your enthusiasm but seemed to regain control of his emotions.

“I’ll return this bloody trinket tonight so could you please _stop riding my ass_ ,” you growled.

Stuffing the strap into his pocket, he smirked. He hoped he could save you from yourself, but understood that in order to first get through to you he needed to speak your language. “Indeed. I’ll let someone else tonight do that instead.”

Mouth agape, you turned on your heel in a flurry. He would not see your cheeks alight. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You began to walk away.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Einar teased.

You picked up your pace, arms crossed over yourself in a flush. If he expected you to stay out so late, you might as well take the opportunity. The only questions was, where was the man in leather?

 

***

 

It was late, very late you realized. The idea that your Trickster Prince may have indeed gone to bed with the rest of Asgard seemed only increasingly logical as you meandered through the many hallways with no particular destination in mind. Hel, the only reason you were still awake was because you had a mission to complete. ~~That and the fact that you avoided falling asleep as long as your body could resist.~~

“Maybe if I just leave it somewhere he might find later?”, you mused aloud to no one but yourself. You would rather be indulging in the mead you knew the twins had swiped than aimlessly walking the empty halls of the palace. At this point, you very much doubted you’d be seeing the Liesmith again until morning anyway. Asking servants where a Prince of Asgard might be sleeping may not be the best course of action either. Servants loved to gossip and gossip spread. By tomorrow your team would have no doubt heard the buzzing about how their teammate went searching for a Prince with a knife on her person.

Yeah, that wasn’t an option. You’d rather leave it in some potted plant than involve yourself with servants, useful though they were.

That’s when you saw it. A flash of red darting around a corner, a red so brilliant it could only belong to one ~~man~~  god.

This was going to be awkward exchange, but by Odin's beard it was your only option. Thor wasn’t stupid. In fact, you were willing to wager he was more perceptive than he would have you to believe, but in matters concerning his brother he was easily blinded. From the information you were provided, the eldest Odinson was more than a little concerned about his youngest brothers social life, or rather the lack thereof. You could use this to your advantage.

“Your Highness!” you called out, jogging to keep up with the royal. Making it around the corner yourself, you found that your vocalization had indeed reached his ears and caused him pause.

The red caped royal eyed you with curiosity shining his his brilliant blue orbs. “The Vanaheim witch?” he mused mostly to himself. He took in your flushed cheeks and heaving shoulders as you caught your breath. “You’re the one who tricked me.” It was not an accusation, but more of a confirmation. The childlike furrow of his brow was enough to tell you he wasn’t angry, just confused as one became when bested by a magic trick.

“My deepest apologies, my Prince,” you curtsied in respect. “It is what we do. We know nothing else.”

The gentle god laughed warmly at your words. “You sound much like my brother,” he smiled. “Always with his tricks and magic.”

“Actually,” you started, looking up at the giant with innocent eyes. “That is why I called for you. I was hoping you might know his whereabouts?”

The blonde smiled fondly at your expression and placed a heavy yet welcoming hand on your small shoulder. “I’m afraid my brother has retired for the evening. I dropped him off at his chambers mere minutes ago.”

Damn it all. There was no avoiding the awkward at this point.

You bit your lip shyly and threaded your fingers together in front of you. Milking it for all it was worth, you added a demure shuffling of your feet for good measure. When you spoke you made sure to struggle with eye contact. “Might I,” you began softly. “Might I ask where that is? If that’s not too bold of me to inquire, your Highness?”

You were met with a skeptical look. Perhaps he wasn’t as concerned with his brothers affairs as you thought.

You forced a blush on your cheeks as your eyes widened in understanding of the insinuations you must have made with your words. You covered your mouth instantly and darted your eyes away to anywhere but the blonde before you. “Not for anything inappropriate!” you stammered through your fingers. “I simply wanted to return his weapon.”

Eyes drifting to your considerable cleavage where the weapon of conversation rested. The god removed his hand from your shoulder, face also tinted with a notable pink hue. He looked away as to not compromise your modesty. “The one tucked in your- erm,” he struggled to find the right words, flustered. “In the front of your gown?”

You blushed again for good measure, this time letting your hands drop from their place over your lips and crossed them lightly over your exposed cleavage. “Yes,” you replied delicately. “The downside to dresses it seems; no pockets.” You gave a small smile and shrugged your shoulders in a charming display of naivete.

Happy to indulge in the lighter mood, Thor mimicked your smile before frowning slightly. “As I told you before, Mi’Lady, my brother is resting. There is time for that in the morning.”

“I understand,” you curtsied lightly again, keeping your gaze trained on the floor. “And my deepest apologies but I must insist. It’s very important that I return it to him tonight.”

“Are you in trouble?” Thor asked, lifting your gaze as he moved his hand under your chin. He looked genuinely concerned.

A White Knight. Perfect.

“I’m afraid so,” you whispered for dramatic effect. You decided not to tear up. That would be a little too much. You instead pressed your face into the palm of his hand which Thor instinctively cupped. Eyes wide, you looked up at him through long lashes. “Do you remember that part in our performance where I stole your brothers dagger?” you asked.

Thor grinned softly, a mix of fondness and need to reassure you driving him. “Of course,” he chuckled lightly. “How could I forget?”

You bit your lip. “Yes, well that part wasn’t scripted. You see, I got into quite a bit of trouble for that actually. If I don’t return it tonight…” You let your words trail off and closed your eyes, pressing your face shamefully into Thor's comforting hand.

He melted, White Knight complex in full swing. “I can return it to him for you, little one” he soothed.

What was it with this family and pet names?

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and instead pulled away from his hand, a new blush on your cheeks. “With all do respect, my lord, I need to ensure that he has it. I may have already told my colleagues that I returned it…”

Thor smiled knowingly. He knew a crush when he saw one and recognized a half truth with he heard one. Clearly, the dagger was just a convenient excuse to meet his younger brother. Who was he to stand in the way of young love? The god played along swimmingly. “Ah,” he agreed. “And if they found out you didn’t..”

“I’ll be in worlds of trouble,” you finished.

“You are a soldier, are you not?” he asked.

“I am,” you replied. _If he only knew what kind_.

“Then I trust you.”

Your gut twisted in that familiar feeling of guilt. _‘You shouldn’t,’_ you warned internally. You forced a smile despite yourself.

“Please, follow me,” Thor stepped past you and gestured to his side. Complying, you fell in step with the blonde as the two of you retraced his steps from earlier. Determined to make this a pleasant journey, he jokes. “You must tell me how you performed that trick of yours from dinner!” He laughs and so do you.

The mood is light as you walk, but you find yourself having a hard time keeping up with the part of the demure damsel. It worked it’s magic, but damn did it leave your cheeks sore from all the smiling. You wanted to let slip a sarcastic comment on more than one occasion but bid yourself not to.

Through a few twists and turns and long corridors, you learned more about the blonde Prince of Asgard, and soon found yourself enjoying his presence. He was kind, and warm like a summer's day. He welcomed you with open arms and trusted you without a second thought. You were a soldier, a warrior in his book, and so you carried with you the honor of one. It was nice to feel so welcomed. If the circumstances were different, you might even think you could be friends with the royal.

As it stood, he was your enemy; another target. He could never be a friend of yours. Nor should he want to be.

You frowned as you approached your destination and Thor mistook your internal struggle for nerves.

Pausing, the god wondered for a moment if he should in fact intervene. Loki was not kind to new faces, even less when they seemed to want something from him. He abhorred weakness, though that was probably a projection of his own self loathing. Even still, Thor cast you a sideways glance, taking in your small frame and demure disposition. You were so different from the confident woman during your realms demonstration. If this was your real persona, he knew his brother may very well eat you alive. Could he risk that?

The two of you paused at the door that you assumed to be the entrance to Loki’s chambers. Thor looked as if he was going to say something to you, but decided against it.

It’s not his place, he concluded, and he could not shield you from his brothers demons if you were this determined to meet them. Thrice he knocked before he took a step away in warning. You followed his lead.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Thor frowned only for a moment, worried that he’s led a lamb to a wolf's den. “Don’t thank me just yet. I am not responsible if he responds unkindly to this intrusion.”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“My brother dislikes unannounced visitations.”

The door swung open. The god of lies practically ripping it off its hinges. He’s dressed in loose fitting night clothes and looks positively irate, hair tousled from a failed attempt at slumber. “And you would be wise to remember that, _brother,_ ” he growled.

“Apologies,” Thor said in a warning tone. He wrapped an arm protectively around your waist to guard you from his brothers ire. “She only wishes to return to you, your property.” Thor narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Be kind.”

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, unaffected by the threat. He glanced at the arm that wasn’t his around your waist found himself growing envious. Suddenly aware of his appearance, he slicked his hair back and straightened his posture.

You stepped out from Thor’s hold and moved closer to the dark Prince. “My Lord,” you bowed slightly for show, “I’ve come with a truce.”

He could practically taste your lies. The way you shifted awkwardly under his intense gaze, the way your eyes darted to anywhere but his towering figure all felt like a show. That was when he saw it; the subtle licking of your lips with a not so demure smirk pulling darkly at their corners. Thor couldn’t see the suggestion, and soon the gears started to turn. He bowed politely like his mother taught him and stepped to the side, beckoning you entrance to his chambers. “Of course, Mi’Lady. Please, come in.”

You waited a beat, and then two. Thor hadn’t moved.

“She no longer needs a chaperone, _brother_ ,” Loki hissed. “You may take your leave now.”

Thor eyed the two of you for a moment, caught between feeling like he should stay lest something happen to you, but knowing when he was not wanted. He sighed and eyed his brother with warning. “Take care, brother, she has only innocent intentions.”

You wanted to laugh. If only he knew what you wanted to do to his precious little brother.

Loki smirked down at you. Unashamed, he flashed you a wink. “I’m sure she does,” he grinned.

Thor shook his head, his own small smile playing on his lips at the display. The eldest Odinson turned on his heels and began towards his own chambers, wondering all the while if a sweet woman like you was just what his brother needed to tear down the icy walls of his heart.

If Thor really knew the things you wanted from his cold hearted younger brother, you knew the god would refer to you as anything but sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I do hoped you liked this little set up. Need to build relationships and all that.
> 
> Next is what I'm sure you've all been waiting for. That's right kiddies, a taste of smut! Gasp! It's about time right?
> 
> I promise it won't be the last time ;)
> 
> Anyway! As always, thank you to those who leave Kudos and Comments. It's always nice to feel the love!
> 
> Until next time. Keep your panties on!
> 
> xoxo


	9. Triple Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How would you like to play a game?” he breathed, words husky and laced with something dark.
> 
> You bit back a groan and licked your lips instead, suddenly bone dry as your body distributed it’s energies further south. “What, pray tell, do I get out of it when I win?”, you implied.
> 
> Warm and wet, Loki captured the lobe of your ear between his lips and sucked lightly on the sensitive flesh. He let his tongue playfully dance around it, giving it little insinuating sucks before letting you slip out from between his lips with a single nip of his eager teeth. “Satisfaction”, he hissed.
> 
> You inhaled sharply and let your head lull back, hitting the door with a light thud. 
> 
> Fuck me sideways, I’m going to bang a god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Darlings!  
> This chapter is a bit of smutty goodness. If that isn't your style feel free to skip to the next chapter. We'll give you the important highlights before that so you're kept in the loop.
> 
> For all you dirty birds, enjoy!

One moment you were watching the retreating form of flowing red fabric and in the next moment you found yourself being pulled violently through the threshold of a doorway.

_Well that’s one Hel of a welcome._

The light around you dimmed considerably in that instant, going from golden luminescence to candle lit darkness. You didn’t have much time to acclimate to your new surroundings as the Dark Prince expertly maneuvered you, spinning you around and slamming your back against the door just as he closed it shut. Your breath was violently knocked out of your lungs in a rush at the not so gentle impact.

A flick of his wrist was all he needed to control you and soon you were at his mercy, trapped between his lean form and his elaborately carved chamber door.

There were _worse_  places to be. This certainly wasn’t one of them.

The grooves of his excessively decorated door pressed into your back as he leaned closer, body hovering inches from your pounding chest. Hands gripped your wrists above your head and you were reminded of your first intimate encounter. You hoped this one would end with a more satisfying result. So help you, you weren’t leaving without some semblance of relief. From the glint in his eyes, dancing thanks to the flickering candlelight, you weren’t the only one with deviant intentions.

A wolfish grin stretched the corners of his lips as he stared you down like a predator to prey. “Not going to pull your little disappearing act?” he stated more than asked. “Careful, you might give a gentleman the wrong impression.”

His accent did things to you, the way he looked at you did things to you, and now you just wished he would _do_  things to you. You frowned playfully. “Pity,” you said with a sigh, breathless from your collision with excellent carpentry. “I have no interest in gentleman.”

If possible, his wicked grin widened and you found yourself weakening at the knees as a result, heart skipping a beat and returning a drum that would wake the dead. Loki dipped his head low and let his lips ghost over the flesh of your ear. His hair fell forward and tickled the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. Your body gave an involuntary shudder and once again the air was knocked out of your lungs, but this time for an entirely different reason. You pressed yourself harder against the door to keep your knees from buckling under you.

This wicked god would be your undoing.

His breath was warm and he took his time hovering for much too long. Heat radiated from his body, or maybe it was from your own? You felt bespelled and dizzy from his close proximity. You hung on every silent beat that passed between the two of you, letting the fog of lust cloud your eyes and your judgement. When he finally spoke, it was dark and full of promises that you hoped he intended to keep. “How would you like to play a game?” he breathed, words husky and laced with something dark.

You bit back a groan and licked your lips instead, suddenly bone dry as your body distributed it’s energies further south. “What, pray tell, do I get out of it when I win?”, you implied.

Warm and wet, Loki captured the lobe of your ear between his lips and sucked lightly on the sensitive flesh. He let his tongue playfully dance around it, giving it little insinuating sucks before letting you slip out from between his lips with a single nip of his eager teeth. “Satisfaction”, he hissed.

You inhaled sharply and let your head lull back, hitting the door with a light thud.

_Fuck me sideways, I’m going to bang a god._  


Loki took the flush on your cheeks as confirmation to his proposition. “The first to vocalize their satisfaction is the loser,” he growled. “I hope you’re good at keeping quiet.”

You frowned momentarily. “Where’s the fun in that?” you pouted.

“There’s immense pleasure in denial, don’t you think?” he nipped the flesh of your ear again and you suppressed a groan. “Let it build within you, grow hot with it, repress it so deep it becomes essential for your release,” lips walked their way down towards the hollow of your throat and you quivered beneath his advances. “Then when you think you can hold it back no longer, resist even still. When you come undone it will shatter your reality.”

“Stop talking,” you gasped, voice hoarse with desperation.

He did.

Hands ran up the sides of your hips and dipped into your waist, pulling the fabric of your dress up with it at the pressure. You let your arms stay raised above you of your own accord, crossed at the wrist right where he left them, enjoying the feeling of being ravished. Further up his hands traveled until they cupped the swell of your breasts. A pleased sigh escaped your partially parted lips but you did not make a sound, intending to win this game.

But gods did he know how to handle a woman. This wouldn’t be easy.

Your back arched away from the door as his expert hands lifted your breasts briefly, passing over them to run up and along your collarbone, sliding up the sides of your neck soon afterwards. You could have sworn you heard him purr to himself as he nuzzled the side of your face, hands not giving you a moment's reprieve before starting their journey back down. Feather light and aggressively firm where it counted, you needed to remind yourself to take in the air that was growing hot and thick with need around you.

Loki was patient. He enjoyed playing with his food before indulging like a glutton left to starve. When you arched your body forward to meet his, he would coyly pull away, leaving just enough space to taunt and keep you begging for more.

He wanted you to miss him. He wanted to ruin you and taint all future encounters with those lucky enough to share your flesh. Loki was a petty and spiteful god, and he had six nights to embed his way into your memory and destroy you. He would not be forgotten. It was a selfish thing, but Loki was a selfish god.

Imagine his surprise when you decided to turn the tables.

That familiar purple haze that Loki had come to loathe enveloped your form and before he even had a chance to react, you passed through him and took his place as the one in power. He didn’t even have a moment to turn and face you before you pressed his body firmly against his own door, his cheek digging into the grooves that previously dug into the skin of your back. You cackled wickedly as you pinned him down, body flush against his back.

Payback was a bitch.

Loki made no attempt to move. Taken off guard he didn’t know what to make of the sudden turn of events. The throbbing of his cock stretching the thin fabric of his night pants was incredibly evident while hovering over you, but what was more surprising was that it gave a heavy ache once his mind caught up with what you had done. You had challenged his authority, not only mentally but physically as well. He may have had others who traded wits with him in the bedroom, but none had attempted to make him the submissive.

He winced as his cock pushed harder against his chamber door. Evidently he liked the idea.

This was most unexpected.

_Eris - 2, Loki - 2._

“Moan for me, _snake_ ,” you hissed, mimicking his earlier advances and licking the flesh of his ear. “Let me show you what it’s like to surrender.”

Loki ground his teeth together to keep silent, his eyes fluttering closed as he fought with demons promising salvation.

He would not give in. Temptation be damned!

Hands that were not the ones belonging to the man in front of you slithered like a serpent around your waist. Your eyes widened and you moved to turn your neck to see who the intruder was but another hand held the back of your neck firmly in place, keeping your gaze pinned straight before you. The pressure was not altogether unpleasant, but you were not expecting a third party.

The intruder pulled you swiftly against their broad chest and away from the Prince. Two hands crossed over your waist to hold you possessively by the hips.

_Wait a tick_.

There were two hands on your hips and one on grasped firmly around the base of your neck. Either this stranger had three hands or this wasn’t a three-way.

A sick and perverse part of you really, _really_  hoped it was the latter.

Fuck, you needed a good lay.

“You thought my tricks before were good,” grinned a voice in your right ear. You couldn’t see their face but your peripheral vision caught the falling of raven locks.

_It couldn’t be._

Your captor behind you nuzzled their face into the crook of your neck, opposite the other man and making you an Eris sandwich. “You are in for quite the surprise,” echoed the assalent to your left.

Again, it was hard to see who this fourth person was, but that same onyx colored hair fell elegantly over the front of your shoulders as he nuzzled the other side of your neck; the raven a stark contrast to the pale of your skin.

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

The Liesmith, now free from your body pressing him roughly against his own door, took the chance to pivot his heels and turned to face you. Loki leaned his head towards you with a cheeky smile playing on his lips, face only inches from your own. “How lucky for you that I’m feeling creative,” he bit his lip as he let his eyes wander over your surprised expression, savoring every detail. You only got this kind of reaction once and he intended to enjoy it. “Normally I’m not one for sharing you know,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m a selfish god by nature. But just this once I’ll make an exception for me, myself, and I.”

_If this is a dream please don’t wake me._

You felt yourself being pulled backwards by the body directly behind you. Arms still firmly crossed around your waist, your feet struggled to keep up with the long strides the body behind you was making. Your neck was free now, the other intruder unable to keep you still whilst you were being ~~dragged~~  pulled backwards. Immediately you took the opportunity to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of copies to make sure that they were indeed copies and not a ploy by the raven haired Prince.

They were copies; _exact_  copies. Two extra hungry bodies aching not for food but for you.

What god did you worship for this kind of luck?

Oh wait…

The back of your knees collided with the knees of Loki #3 ~~or was it Loki #2~~  followed by that ever familiar feeling of falling. The journey wasn’t far and just as quickly you found yourself pleasantly sitting on something rather firm, digging into your rear with enough force to know that that something was not lacking in the size department. He was a god of course. What did you expect?

The body you were currently perched on sunk at your combined weight. It didn’t take you long at all to identify a bed when you felt one.

Wow, experienced much?

Four elaborately carved pillars reached upwards and completed the four poster bed around you. Loki #3 had chosen the edge closest to one of those pillars and you hoped you had a good idea as to why. The larger than life bed ~~easily able to fit more than a few bodies you noticed~~  was covered in various furs, silks, and pillows that were far too expensive for your taste but easily addicting. How this man was able to get out of bed each day surrounded by such luxuries was a mystery to you, but you were glad he managed.

Loki #3 still had his arms wrapped possessively around your middle, your back leaning comfortably against his chest while his face continued its assault on your neck. There would definitely be a few bruises in the morning.

Loki #1 hung back taking in the spectacle while Loki #2 ~~though honestly you lost track of who was who at this point~~  strolled confidently over to you while pulling his night shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

The man was art. Like carved marble from some inspired artist, he was lean and built in all the right places. Magic user though he may be, you knew he could hold his own in physical combat. Judging by the look of him, you knew he could break you. You wanted him to.

Loki #2 motioned for you to raise your arms with a gesture of one of his fingers and you eagerly complied, knowing where this was going a desperate for it to hurry the fuck up. Like anticipated, Loki #2 fashioned the fabric of his shirt into a makeshift rope and tethered you securely to the wooden pole to your right, leaving your upper body leaning slightly over in that direction with your lower half still in place and sitting comfortably on the lap of Loki #3.

This time it was Loki #1 who sauntered over, taking his sweet ass time and knowing full well the show he was putting on as he pushed his sleeves upwards, a deviant smirk pulling the corners of his mouth. In one fluid motion he kneeled before you, placing himself directly in front of your closed knees and looking up at your with those big ~~obviously false~~ innocent eyes.

With Loki #1 kneeling before you, Loki #2 leaning coyly ~~and deliciously shirtless~~  against the bedpost you were currently tethered to, and sitting on top of Loki #3, you were undoubtedly ready and willing for what you hoped was next.

“I’m going to make you scream so loudly that you’ll have to explain to your colleagues why your voice is so hoarse,” grinned Loki #1. He drew little circles on your knees as he spoke with such assurance it made you wonder how much proof he had to back up his words.

“No explanation needed,” you replied matching his assurance in tone. “They’re well aware of my exploits. Though it’s been a while since I’ve been _that_ vocal.”

Loki #1 gazed up at you quizzically. You clarified, “I don’t fake anything. If you want my screams you need to earn them.”

“I intend to,” Loki #1 responded once again with such confidence you couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation. “Now-” he began, placing the palms of his hands soft yet firmly on the insides of your knees- “Let’s begin your downfall.”

With minimal effort, Loki #1 parted your knees, moving Loki #3’s along with you. The fabric of your dress split eagerly at the slit, draping elegantly on the inside of one of your thighs.

You were wet. That wasn’t a question worth asking. You and he both knew it from the second you were pinned against his door with his body towering over yours. What was surprising however, was just _how_  dripping you actually were at this point.

Loki #1 bit back a growl as your scent caught him pleasantly off guard. “My dear, if you taste as sweet as your scent suggests, then my resolve may yet be questioned,” he purred, eyeing the wetness that had pooled along the base of your delicate lace thong.

“I’m not yours,” you practically moaned, growing more damp at the comment.

“Of course not,” Loki #1 agreed with a smirk. He gave an unspoken request to Loki #2 through a quick glance. The copy ~~or was it a copy~~  reached over and plucked the knife from your between your breasts and handed it over to the man between your thighs. Loki #1 took it with a nod in thanks and proceeded to unsheathe the weapon.

You were not opposed to knife play, but that usually didn’t happen until you and your playmate established a bit more trust than one casual encounter. You flashed him a warning look.

Loki #1 ignored your expression, not intending to do more than remove the thin ~~and very damp~~  piece of fabric that separated him from his prize. He demonstrated this by tucking the blade under one of the flimsy straps of the undergarment and turned the blade upwards. “These seem absolutely ruined. I hope you don’t mind if I-” pulling upwards with minimal effort, the blade sliced through the first strap- “remove these for you?” Loki #1 proceeded to cut the other strap, letting what was left of your modesty fall away with the garment. “After all-” he began, taking hold of the damp material and pulling it out from under you- “what’s a gentleman for?”

Pausing momentarily to bring the remnants of your underwear to his face, he inhaled your scent, closing his eyes in bliss as your aroma enveloped his senses

“Get on with it!” you growled, aching and dipping with need. You hated how he played games. That was your job.

Loki #1 chuckled darkly and challenged your gaze with his. “I suppose patience isn’t your strong suit?” he grinned, tossing the scrap of fabric casually behind him.

“I didn’t realize I was going to be eaten out by Captain Obvious,” you smirked.

“Who said anything about eating out? I don’t believe I made any such promises,” Loki #1 challenged. Your smirk fell.

Long and dexterous fingers played with the entrance to your delicate folds. Your back arched as you let out a hiss at his teasing. Petting softly, he allowed the tip of his index finger to part you only slightly and he dragged his way up and down your sex, spreading your heavy lubricant along the length of you.

You would not moan.

You would not moan.

You _would not moan!_

A voice whispered teasingly into your ear. “How about I make you beg for it?” Loki #3, of who you were still sitting on top of, ankles curled around his, was making jokes as his double toyed with your sex in a way that was positively criminal. Just what kind of snake did you get into bed with?

Having sex with another magic user was turning out to be the best thing to ever happen to you.

“You won’t ever get me begging, Liesmith,” you hissed back. “You’d have better luck getting me on my knees.”

Loki #3 licked the flesh of your ear, “I’ll remember that.”

At his words and his teasing gesture, Loki #1 took the chance to put the period on the end of that sentence by letting his index finger slide effortlessly inside you down to the knuckle.

“Fuck!” you growled, eyes rolling back as your sex closed desperately around his lengthy digit. “That wasn’t a moan!”

“I’m aware,” Loki #3 chuckled darkly into your ear.

He started agonizingly slow at first, testing the waters and relishing in the slick juices that coated the length of his finger. You were clenched tightly around him, but he noted, it was not providing you enough of a stretch judging by the ease at which he could move in and out of you. That’s not how he liked to play. A little bit of pain mixed with pleasure was his game; and so he added a second finger, and then a third, grinning all the while.

“I want you to come undone,” Loki #3 whispered seductively into your ear, speaking the words Loki #1 intended you to hear. You bit your lip as to keep from making a noise that would echo off the walls and lose you the game you so willingly entered into. Loki #1 proceeded to move inside you faster, making you breathless as you choked out a scream. The Liesmith continued his mocking, “Give up and I’ll make it worth it.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed out, eyes closed. It was a power play he was pulling and though his current ministrations were phenomenal, they were not worth losing over. You would not go down due to fingering, A+ though it was.

“In time,” Loki #2 mocked from his place against the bedpost. “We can’t give you everything in one night can we? Where’s the drama?”

“Would you stop talking and fuck me already?” you practically shouted.

Loki #1 increased his tempo but this time used the pad of his thumb to rub your quivering clit. You hissed again and all three Princes smirked in unison.

“Is that begging?”, teased Loki #2.

“No,” you growled, collapsing against the bedpost. A light shimmer of sweat began to form on your skin as you felt yourself grow hotter.

The pleasure you were riding on, the high you were getting from those expert fingers suddenly ceased as they withdrew in one quick motion. You wanted to scream in frustration. Would that count? Best not to find out, so you kept silent. The glare you shot Loki #1, however, said everything for you.

Said Loki only grinned at your heated glare. It fueled his trickster nature it ways simple pranks never could. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips and inserted two into his mouth, sucking and sampling the taste of you. From the heavy exhale that accompanied the gesture, you tasted better than expected.

Pulling out, Loki #1 offered the remaining finger left coated in your hot mess up to Loki #2 who leaned down from his position on the bedpost beside you and eagerly took the sample with enthusiasm.

Let me tell you, watching one sex god lick and suck the finger of another identical sex god was the best kind of spank bank material imaginable.

Everything about this was... _yes_!

What came next was better.

As Loki #3, still positioned under you, pushed upwards and let you feel just how much he was enjoying this display, Loki #2 joined his copy down on the floor, positioning himself next to Loki #1 with ease.

“Come undone,” said one.

“Let me deliver unto you salvation,” finished the other.

What happened next would forever ingrain it’s way into your memory. Both men, eyes trained intensely onto yours, dipped their heads low in unison and shared in what could only be described as the most orgasm inducing, pussy eating experience you’ve ever had.

Each Loki pushed lightly against the inside of your thigh that was closest to them, opening you up to them further as they hungrily devoured your soul, your sex along with it. You lost track of whose lips were who’s and whose tongue was currently battling over possession of your quivering clit.

You resisted making a noise that would make a harlot blush, but what came out was labored breaths and light whimpers.

Loki wanted to win, and so in the midst of his tag team he and his copy each inserted a long and eager finger inside your aching cunt.

You moaned. You did it. And Odin help you it was _worth_  it.

The men currently going to town on your sex grinned against your flesh as they ceaselessly worked you. Tongues traded around your clit as their twin fingers moved expertly deep inside your dripping pussy. Back and forth, two heads it seemed, really were better than one.

“Which one of you is real?” you gasped, body beginning to twitch in preparation for what would be quite the mind blowing orgasm.

Loki #3 laughed, and in that moment you remembered he was there. His presence only brought you closer to your climax. “Does it matter?” he purred, amused.

Nope. Not in the slightest.

Another pair of fingers joined in the fray from both copies and soon you felt that familiar heat rise from your core as the men finger fucked and licked you senseless.

Loki’s words echoed in your mind during your throws of passion. _“Let it build within you, grow hot with it, repress it so deep it becomes essential for your release.”_

He was right.

_“Then when you think you can hold it back no longer, resist even still.”_

Why was he always right?

You resisted; tried. It was hard. He was hard. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

“Resist,” Loki #3 commanded.

You couldn’t.

Heaven crashed over you and left your mind numb and blissfully broken. Wave after wave of ecstasy racked your body as you bucked your hips with each contraction. Both Loki’s pulled away and watched you break, lips glossy with your essence.

_“When you come undone it will shatter your reality.”_

It did.

When you finally had your wits about you and the contractions finally ceased, you pulled your gaze from the ceiling to the men between your legs. They licked their lips in unison and grinned so wickedly you thought you would climax again.

“You lose,” said one, but you didn’t care.

“Worth it,” you breathed.

They stood up, and when they did their crotches with their notable bulges were just about eye level. It was then that you made a decision.

You made have lost the game but you would win the war.

Loki was a smart god, arguably one of the smartest, and as such did not miss the mischievous smile that curled the corners of your lips into a sadistic grin.

The arms around your waist grew tighter and the copies before you narrowed their eyes down at you, demanding you stay put.

“Don’t you dare,” Loki #1 warned, and you had a sneaking suspicion you finally figured out which one the real Loki was.

Wrists still bound, you were unconcerned. Instead you let the twinkle in your eyes give your plan away. “Did you think this was a mutual give and take scenario?” you teased. “Silly Prince, I can’t give you everything in one night. Where’s the drama?”

“No!”

“Until next time,” you winked.

“Eris!”

You let yourself vanish in a puff of elegant purple smoke. In your departure, you could have swore you heard the three Princes let out frustrated shouts filled with hate and rage.

You did your duty. You left him the knife. Besides, this would make next time ever more dramatic. Rough was your favorite way to play and you were sure this is how you would get what you wanted.

_Eris - 3, Loki - 2._

Winning felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope that was at least a little worth the wait! This story will have more chapters like this as it actually is important for the relationship between Loki and Eris.
> 
> Notice she hasn't said his name once or how they haven't kissed?
> 
> Those are intentional details to fuel the angst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this dirt as much as I did writing it. I haven't written something like this in a while so I apologize if it's not up to snuff. I'm looking for a beta reader for my smut chapters since I'm so out of practice. Let me know if there are any takers!
> 
> Please comment and leave me kudos! I love them like I love me some Loki.
> 
> See you next time!  
> xoxo


	10. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Playing with your food isn’t wise with that one,” she offered.
> 
> Turning your attention to the bold display of clear disobedience, you replied, “And you would know that?”
> 
> The girl kept her trained gaze towards the dancing couples, and past them, to the raven Prince. “I’ve seen many fall for his mysterious and dangerous allure,” she sighed with pity, as if feeling sorry for the fools who succumbed to his charm.
> 
> You decided to mimic the girl, taken aback by her clear disregard for not only the social norm but her status as well. “It’s a good thing that I’m not falling for him then,” you stated matter of fact.
> 
> “Yet,” the girl finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! If you skipped the last chapter, all you need to know is that our precious Prince has had his dagger rightfully returned to him.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> xoxo

“You look great, now can we go already?” Syri all but groaned. She and her sister were never very patient, Syri even less so. With the second party of the festivities already well underway, the twins were nearing their breaking point.

“Beauty takes time”, you muttered to the mirror in front of you as you poured all of your concentration on applying the finishing touches to your makeup. What would normally take any seasoned artist a few minutes to accomplish took you more time than you cared to admit. Though you sported the basics on a day to day basis, smoky eyes were not your forte; neither was highlight, shadow, bronzer, or anything else the twins had in their arsenal. It wasn’t your job to be the distraction.

Sylvi scoffed from across the room, her perfect figure leaning against the side of the couch Syri had plopped herself upon; the result of a tested virtue and a battle she was losing. “Or, idea,” Sylvi began, thick sarcasm laced in her words, “you could try waking up sometime before 3pm?”

Her sister chimed in before you had a chance to retort. “We shouldn’t have to suffer for your late night escapades.”

Your reflection rolled her eyes and for a moment you were intimately aware that you lacked a poker face. It seemed your expressions had a mind of their own and you didn’t have the control to keep them in check. Your reflection scowled lightly at the unpleasant realization.

Annoyed more so at the doppelganger staring back at you than anything else the twins had said, your reply had more bite than you meant it to. “Go on without me if I’m such a burden,” you growled.

Heat flashed in Sylvi’s emerald eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just take that tone with us,” she warned. Her sister bristled beside her.

Okay, admittedly that was not your best moment.

You sighed, setting down the infernal blending brush and turned towards the girls. “I apologize,” you flashed them an apologetic look. “That was rude an uncalled for.”

The girls shared a look between the two of them, reading each other in that way that only close siblings or the best of friends seem to be able to do. You envied that connection, having never experienced it to that extent.

Sylvi pushed herself up from her leaned position and sauntered over to you. Shaking her head with a soft smile, she reached past you and picked up the makeup brush you had so carelessly set upon the accent table, scattered amongst various other beauty items you only had a faint idea as to how to use. She chuckled to herself and let her eyes meet yours. “When will you learn to ask for help?” she questioned with a smirk.

Scowling, you closed your eyes, familiar with this routine. The soft ends of the makeup brush felt odd against your closed lids when you weren’t the one in control. Though Sylvi was excellent at her craft, it always caught you off guard when she would shift locations or return to your skin after a brief pause. As such, she had begun dictating her actions. “Switching eyes,” she’d say, or “I’m working on the crease of your lids now”, all to give you a little more peace of mind. Bless her.

“Asking for help isn’t really in my repertoire,” you said carefully, keeping still while Sylvi worked her magic, lest she made a mistake and you incur her wrath. A painful lesson you didn’t feel like repeating.

Concentration consuming her, the elegant temptress didn’t catch your comment.

From across the room, the peanut gallery piped in. “Learn it!” Syri shouted. “I hate being late because you’re being stupid.”

You snickered and Sylvi paused, no doubt glaring at you. “I deserve that,” you grinned, responding to both girls.

It wasn’t long before the room echoed with the knocking on the main door.

“Finished” Sylvi boasted with pride.

You opened your eyes and stared at her with curiosity. She gestured for you to turn and face the mirror. You did.

“Perfect timing,” Syri exclaimed, hopping up from the sofa and hurrying to answer the door. “The boys are here to yell at us.”

Eyes far too sultry to be yours stared back at you, uncharacteristically too wide for the confident smirk they demanded.

_Fuck, I’m hot._

You narrowed your eyes and gave your best smolder, giggling inside like a fool.

_New Eris, who dis?_

“You were pretty close,” Sylvi praised as she grinned at your expression. “You’re getting better.”

You laughed and flashed her an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Is this because I apologized?”

Chuckling, Sylvi shook her head. “It’s because you’re improving.

Three pairs of footsteps approached the pair of you. Syri’s much more defined due to the heels she was sporting.

“I tried to get her to move but she’s just so slow!” Syri complained.

Running a hand through his hair, Calder seemed to have lost his grip on his patience as well. “Honestly, Eris, we have a schedule to” –you turned at his words and his voice broke off into silence, momentarily forgetting his train of thought.

The two of you held each other’s gaze for just a moment too long. You fidgeted under his stare after a few uncomfortable beats. “Go ahead and say it,” you rolled your eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Calder raised an eyebrow and held your gaze. “I don’t think you do,” he responded with a weight you didn’t recognize. Einar did, and he frowned momentarily.

You scoffed and shifted your weight to one side, a hand coming to rest confidently on your hip. Your dress was revealing, a cross between what appeared to be Asgardian formal wear and flirtatious belly dancer. Complete with chain adornments draping over your figure, you looked more like a palace concubine than a royal guest.

In your best Calder impersonation, you narrowed your eyes and gave him a disapproving look. “You’re drawing too much attention to yourself,” you said with all the seriousness you could muster.

Calder paused for a moment before lying. “I suppose you know me more than I thought.”

Einar was the only one to pick up the note of despair at the end of his sentence, sadness licking at his aura as the man stood tall with his walls cracking around him.

“They’re my favorite dresses, Calder,” you pressed, unaware of the lie. “I never get to wear them.”

“You’re right,” replied Calder with a small smile. He really was so handsome when he did that. “Having you be anything but yourself may attract just as much of attention.”

“Besides,” Sylvi chimed in, pulling a strand of your hair in front of your face, twisting it and letting it settle in just the right spot. “While they’re looking at her, they won’t be looking at us.”

You glanced her way with knitted brows. “I thought you two were the distractions?”

Syri giggled and wrapped an arm around the waist of her sister, bringing her close. “We all need to learn to improvise to complete this mission. Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“Agreed,” voiced Einar, tone flat as usual.

You scoffed, turning your head away with an obvious smile playing on your lips. “This mushy teamwork talk is making me sick.”

Calder laughed, sounding musical as always when it was genuine. “Then let’s get going. We’re already past fashionably late.”

“Not my fault,” Syri muttered.

“We’ll meet back at the common room and discuss our observations,” Calder continued, undeterred. “Though the upcoming parties are intended for enjoyment, we’re working.”

“Like always,” you pout.

“Stay safe,” Calder finished.

***

To say the look of the palace gardens, decorated with dancing lights to enchant their patrons, was something out of a fairytale would be a gross understatement. Hanging lanterns strung between the outreaching branches of trees connected them into a dazzling web of warm luminescence. Small particles of light fluttered amongst the crowd, dancing between bodies and glowing brighter when near laughter, encouraging the emotion. The sky was a blanket of midnight blue, complementing the contrast and creating a perfect backdrop to such a spectacle.

Flowers spilled from their baskets, hanging from various locations throughout the gardens, and dripping downwards in a romantic display. The scent of vanilla permeated the air as bakers supplied their guests with delicate desserts. Breathtaking ladies and handsome gentleman navigated the crowd with expert fluidity as they served sparkling glasses of dark honeyed mead, bowing gracefully with each encounter as they practically danced with the lull of magical stringed instruments that beckoned familiarity.

You and your cohorts crossed under lavish archways, decorated with more lights and floral accents, as you descended the marbled steps that would lead you into the life of the evening’s festivities.

To your far right you caught sight of the generous line of grateful patrons, each patiently waiting their turn to give grace to the Allmother who seated herself like a proper queens amongst a floral entwined throne. She was stunning in her attire and glowed with pride at the ambiance that was no doubt her design.

The whole display was quite the distraction, bombarding your senses and overwhelming your brains ability to process them all at once.

Such was the distraction that you missed the final step of the grand staircase you were descending and ungraciously collided with a pretty servant girl, unable to evade your misstep.

You grabbed her shoulders to steady yourself more than her, but the gesture seemed mutual nonetheless. “Fuck me, I’m so sorry!” you flushed, checking her over to ensure she wasn’t harmed.

 _What an entrance_ , you shamed internally. From behind, you felt the disappointed stares of your comrades.

The blonde beauty seemed a tad irate at the collision, but melted at your words, familiar with pretentious pretenders who could do no wrong. Your genuine concern was refreshing. “It’s fine,” she rushed. “You wouldn’t believe how many times that’s happened tonight.”

Excusing herself with a halfhearted bow, the girl continued past you, grabbing a glass of mead from the tray of another servant with expert sleight of hand and took a hearty swig when she thought no one was looking.

Her eyes met yours from above the rim of her cup. Catching her in the act, instead of appearing shocked or embarrassed, the girl flashed you a crooked smile and shrugged her shoulders before disappearing into the crowed.

On a deeper level, you could relate.

 _‘Try acting more like a lady?’_   Calder suggested through the collective as you all dispersed throughout the party. _‘Mind your language?’_

 _‘Sir, yes sir,’_   you replied, saluting no one in particular. Picking up a glass of mead from a gorgeous specimen of an Asgardian male, you flushed as he gave you generous bow. Dusted with gold and pleasantly shirtless, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy of being a royal.

_Speaking of royals…_

You took a swig from your glass.

“My brother is not present,” voiced a familiar warmth. Turning, you came face to upper chest with the God of Thunder. “I assume that is who you were searching for?”

“Your Highness,” you choked, surprised he would take the time to address you personally and mortified from the dribble of mead that spilled down the side of your mouth as you coughed. You had to fight to keep the remaining liquor from spilling out of your nose. The twins would never let you live that down. You wouldn’t blame them.

Wiping the corners of your mouth as delicately as possible, you smiled up at him. “What gives me the honors?”

“Would you care for a dance?” he inquired, outstretching a hand and bowing ever so slightly in respect.

Your gaze switched from the glass of mead you really wanted to finish and the Prince that requested your attentions. Frowning, you knew the choice you had to make. Setting the glass upon the tray of a waiting servant you placed your delicate hand into Thor’s large one. He smiled and it elicited a warm match from your lips. His positivity was contagious.

The crowd parted slightly out of respect as the Prince lead you gently into the throws of dancing couples. Soon you joined their ranks and a private conversation ensued.

“You seem to have taken a shine to my brother,” Thor stated more than asked. He guided you around the dance floor with the skill you could only attribute to a mothers excellent tutelage. He wasn’t terrible at all, in fact he was better than most around you, but he certainly lacked the sort of flair that Calder possessed when traversing across the floor. You briefly wondered if the darker Prince moved just as well. He certainly gave off that impression.

“Lady Eris?” Thor repeated.

You blinked, clearing your thoughts as you caught his crystal blue eyes. He smiled and you flushed. “My apologies,” you offered.

Reading you, Thor continued as to not cause you any more discomfort, but a knowing grin tugged his lips upwards regardless. “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but my brother does not typically make many appearances if he can help it. He’s not one for social gatherings.”

Spinning thanks to his guidance, your back was now to the entrance to the party. Covering your minor disappointment, you let out a laugh. “What makes you think I was hoping to find him in attendance?”

Thor’s eyes spoke with years of wisdom, the eyes of a would be king who saw what others could not. “Because, little one, you sport his colors and have been scanning the crowd over my shoulder throughout this entire engagement.”

You scoffed and made an effort to look him in the eye. “I like the color green”, you explained simply.

“And gold?” the Prince retorted.

“We are in Asgard after all,” you chimed in response.

“Ah,” mused the future King with a hum. He ceased his movements, you along with him. The couples around you continued their dancing.

You flashed him a million questions with your eyes, narrowed in suspicion before he spoke up.

“My brother is a fickle creature,” he began, looking past you. “Often he is unfairly cast in my shadow which has left him competitive and bitter. In truth, Lady Eris, I do not wish to incur his wrath.” Excusing himself, the Prince gave a small bow to your still confused stature before gesturing with his eyes to something behind you.

Craning your neck, you looked.

“I have been wrong before,” said the blonde Prince as your eyes raked over the figure of his darker sibling. He had cut to the front of the line to greet his mother, giving her a loving kiss on the cheek and bowing deeply. Thor warmed at the display and kissed the back of your hand gently. “Perhaps he has found a reason to attend these ‘repetitive and mediocre gatherings’?”

With that the golden Prince took his leave, no doubt to welcome the man you had dressed to the nines for.

The fact that the older brother thought that there could be anything resembling love blooming between you and his younger sibling was naïve. Lust, undoubtedly. But love? Fairytales for readers with unrealistic expectations.

Your story didn’t allow for such dreams.

Another golden dusted servant boy offered you a drink as you stepped out from the couples and lingered along the walls of the party. You let yourself sneak a peek at the dark royal from above the rim of your glass. He was wearing another version of his ceremonial robes from the previous evening, dagger gleaming proudly in the lantern light.

A voice licked at your subconscious. _‘Welcome back,’_   Einar said privately, no doubt catching sight of the Prince and his returned possession.

You opted for a more sarcastic response. _‘Well, I know you all would just be lost without me.’_

You almost choke on another swig of mead as the Prince in question catches your eyes with his own. Giving into a small shudder, you notice their dark implications even from across the party.

He was not pleased.

You couldn't help but grin, satisfied. He scowled.

 _‘Lovers quarrel?’_   Einar questioned, sounding about as playful as an emotionless voice can sound.

 _‘You could say that,’_   you replied, feeling victorious as the Prince turned away, engaging in what must be another _enthralling_   conversation.

The space to your left is soon occupied by another presence. The servant girl from earlier brought her own, you noted, _refreshed_ glass of mead to her lips but hesitated before taking a sip. She spoke into her glass, words were meant for your ears alone. “Playing with your food isn’t wise with that one,” she offered.

Turning your attention to the bold display of clear disobedience, you replied, “And you would know that?”

The girl kept her trained gaze towards the dancing couples, and past them, to the raven Prince. “I’ve seen many fall for his mysterious and dangerous allure,” she sighed with pity, as if feeling sorry for the fools who succumbed to his charm.

You decided to mimic the girl, taken aback by her clear disregard for not only the social norm but her status as well. “It’s a good thing that I’m not falling for him then,” you stated matter of fact.

“Yet,” the girl finished.

You scoffed, turning your head to glare at the anomaly. “I’ll have you know that our relationship is purely physical.”

“They all are,” she mused with another heavy sigh. Taking a second drink from her cup, she continued to keep her sights straight ahead.

Raising an eyebrow in question, you challenged her. “Don’t you have some work to do?”

Without missing a beat, she retorted, “I do.”

Pausing, you found yourself at a loss for words. Who the hell was this girl? “Shouldn’t you be doing it, then?” you pushed.

She smirked into her cup and replied, “I should,” before taking yet another sip of her mead.

You turned your gaze straight ahead and matched her smirk with your own. “I respect you,” you said matter of fact.

“Thank you”

A beat of silence followed your quiet truce. You saw yourself in her. It was a funny feeling. You both took a drink in unison before you broke the silence. “You should know that if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll deeply regret it.”

The servant pivoted in your direction and for the first time she gave you her full attention. “Lucky for you that I have no one worth telling,” she said with a sad yet reassuring smile.

You laughed and smirked down at her, noting she was about an inch or two shorter than your stature. “Well that sounds pretty depressing” you joke.

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders again. “Isn’t it though?” she agreed.

Raising your glass to her, your smirk dissolved into a more genuine expression. “Eris,” you introduced.

Mimicking the action, the girl offered up her own glass. “Sumarr,” she smiled.

The two of you let your beverages clink together pleasantly before the pair of you downed the remaining contents.

This was sure to be a beautiful friendship.

Finding new alliances, you and Sumarr indulged in the shared experience of neglecting your duties. She, her job of providing the palace guests with unparalleled service, and you, scoping out the royal family for signs of weakness. Of course, Sumarr didn’t know about your shared temporary job abandonment, but you indulged in it all the same.

It was a wonderfully serine moment, ruined by the sharp scream of panic that pierced your subconscious moments later.

_‘We have a problem!’_

Sylvi. Normally the collected one of the twins, it was uncharacteristic of her to vocalize her distress to such a degree. You winced at the sudden exclamation and Sumarr shot you a look of concern. You flashed an awkward smile in reassurance. She knitted her brows in suspicion but took the bait, thinking you maybe had had a bit too much to drink.

 _‘Explain,’_   Calder replied with his stern and collected Captain voice.

Sylvi wasted no time. _‘Syri and I managed to get a ring from the Allmother.’_

You coughed in surprise at the sudden turn of events and once again Sumarr looked at you with hesitation.

“Sorry,” you lied, “Some mead went down the wrong pipe.”

She snorted and delicately took the empty glass from you hand.  “I think we’re going to have to cut you off,” she joked.

Back in your head, Calder reacted appropriately. _‘You what!?’_

Einar kept his cool. _‘What’s the problem then?’_

 _‘It’s on the move,’_   Syri cried, ashamed.

 _‘It’s what now?’_ Calder repeated in disbelief.

Sylvi snapped, her tone conveying the urgency the situation merited. _‘On the move. Leaving. Running away from us! Escaping!’_

You turned your attention to Sumarr who seemed to be wondering how you could down a glass of mead so easily yet be such a lightweight. It was almost insulting to be honest. “You’ll have to excuse me,” you offered.

_‘Sylvi-’_

_‘Stop that servant! For fucks sake, the ring is in the glass she’s leaving with!’_   she screamed.

You winced once again. “Something’s come up that needs my attention,” you explained. Sumarr raised an eyebrow in question.

 _‘We need to know which servant you’re talking about,’_   Calder explained coolly. He seemed to regain his earlier composure. You knew someone would be getting a talk to later, and for once it wouldn’t be you!

Sumarr examined your concerned expression with her own. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?” she offered.

 _‘Lady with the braid bun heading your way, Eris! Her tray has discarded cups from the party. The ring is in one of those unfinished glasses!’_ Sylvi explained in a flurry. How she was keeping her cool externally despite her internal freak out was beyond you.

 _‘I can’t get to her without making a scene,’_   Calder advised.

Einar spoke, ever the voice of wisdom. _‘If someone finds out what’s inside one of those glasses there’s going to be a scene regardless.’_

You addressed your new friend. “Sumarr, was it?”

“Yes, Milady,” she confirmed.

  
“You might actually be able to help me”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“My friend, it appears, has lost one of her rings inside her unfinished glass of mead. It’s quite urgent. Sentimental value and all that,” you explained. “She would be quite torn up if she lost it.”

Inside your head and unaware of your assistance, your team began to urge you into action. _‘We’re running out of time!’_ Syri shouted.

Sumarr seemed almost taken aback but willing to lend a hand nonetheless. “Of course,” she agreed, “Do you know who has it?”

_‘She’s almost at the doors! Eris, grab her!’_

You pointed delicately to the lovely servant girl with a large braided bun sitting atop her head walking past you. In her hand were several glasses of empty or unfinished glasses she was certainly taking to the kitchen to clean. “Her, I believe?” you stated with a question.

_‘Eris! Stop her!’_

_‘Working on it!’_   you snapped.

“Dahlia!” Sumarr called out. The servant with the braided bun paused, turning towards your new friend.

“Sumarr?” the girl questioned, tilting her head.

Your blonde ally offered up a sincere smile. “Might I see your glasses?” she asked.

“Sure,” the servant, Dahlia, replied. “Is everything the matter?”

Taking the opportunity, you quickly took your chance to examine the glasses as the two servants exchanged words. Picking up the glasses with remaining liquid one at a time, you spun their contents lightly, looking for any glimpse of a ring in their depths. After the second cup you found it, catching a glitter in the light as the dark mead sloshed around the base of a stunning piece of jewelry. Bingo.

Picking it up, you gave a polite bow to the servant, Dahlia. “Thank you, my friend wasn’t quite finished with her drink.”

The girl flushed with embarrassment. “My deepest apologies, Milady. I didn’t know!”

Sumarr interjected, saving the girl from her self-inflicted mortification. “Thank you, Dahlia,” she smiled, “You’ve saved the day.”

Dahlia gave a deep, humbling bow and took her leave, eager to escape and get some air.

 _‘Oh ye of little faith,’_   you grinned in the collective, proud of yourself.

Sumarr turned her questioning gaze to you and you paused, raising an eyebrow and examining her response to the ordeal. She seemed like a nice girl. You hoped she would turn a blind eye to this whole encounter. Loose ends were better when they were silent.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she started and you groaned internally. Questions would get her killed. Unaware, she pressed on. “But how did you know your friends ring was in a glass that Dahlia was carrying? You were standing alone with me the whole time.”

You group hadn’t made their mental connection public for a reason. If this kept up you would no doubt be given the order to remove her lest your secret become exposed.

Laughing, you dismissed her question with a wave of your hand. “She signaled me across the way,” you explained, continuing before she had the chance to speak up. You hoped she would get the hint. “Thank you again for your assistance, Sumarr. If you ever need anything, please feel free to ask.” With that you nodded in thanks and removed yourself from the conversation, keeping an eye on her just in case.

_Please be smart._

Sumarr seemed to contemplate her next move for a moment, clearly not believing the lie she was fed, but instead opted for a heavy sigh and a reluctant return to her duties. Apparently she couldn’t be bothered by the eccentric habits of royal guests.

 _‘Well done, Eris,’_   congratulated your Captain.

You beamed, proud to finally be doing something right. _‘Thanks, but what do I do with this thing in the meantime?’_   you inquired.

Calder seemed to chuckle and you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. _‘Don’t set it down,’_   he advised.

‘ _Fantastic.’_

“I never took you for a lush,” spoke a cool voice to your right.

This was certainly a night for mysterious interruptions.

This intruder, however, was more than welcome. You longed to hear the melodic lull of his voice and playful banter. Memories of the night prior surfaced and you couldn’t suppress a cheeky grin. “My dear Prince,” you turned and gave your best royal bow, though it somehow had an air of mockery that wasn’t lost to the man on the receiving end of it. “Sleep well?” you winked.

“You would do well not to test my patience,” the Prince warned.

You couldn’t tell if he was referring to the previous night, the current joke, or both instances.

The Trickster regarded your state of attire and the colors in which it were comprised of with a hardened expression. The sight of which caused his emerald eyes to darken and dissolve into a hue of deep blood red. Seemingly unaware of their change, the Prince continued his threat. “Next time will have a different result.”

_He really is the Devil, isn’t he?_

You did your best to regain your composure, the Prince taking your momentarily surprised expression as a reaction to his threat rather than the shift of his irises. “Next time?” you scoffed, “You’re being rather presumptuous don’t you think?”

Just as quickly as they had appeared, the red reverted to their typical green. “Am I?” he questioned, lowering his voice for privacy. “Perhaps your dripping undergarments left me with the wrong impression? Or is that just a typical day for you?”

Rather than let his words get to you, you stood a little taller at his challenge. “What happened to all this talk of resisting?-” you folded your arms across your chest and shifted your weight to one side for emphasis “-It makes it better in the end, wasn’t that your words?”

“In a sense,” he said bemused, a hum behind his words that flirted with your senses. “I’ve never been good at following my own advice.”

“Pity,” you flirted back, tossing your hair over your shoulder, “Good advice.”

From a distance, a man called out to the Prince at your side. The Liesmith frowned in response, knowing his duties beckoned him elsewhere than his current and much more pleasurable company. Feigning proper etiquette, Loki let himself bow deeply as if excusing himself, his lips nearing your ear. His words were private and dark and as smooth as the silk on his bed. “I’m going to devour you,” he promised.

Breathless, you did your best to remain composed lest the world know what dirty things you were discussing with royalty. “You already have,” you reminded him. “Now tell me why I should let you?”

“My dear,” the Prince chuckled, tucking the perfectly placed strand of hair behind your ear as if searching for a reason to touch you. “You come dressed as a concubine clothed in my colors, fit for my harem and expect to get away with it?” His lips curled into his signature wolf like grin and he offered a teasing wink. “Until next time,” he suggested, pulling his hand away from behind your ear and disappearing into the crowd to join with new company.

A prized objective currently swimming in mead, praises from your superior, and delectable promises from a dangerous royal; this night had turned out to be quite the success.

Just once, you thought, you’d fool yourself into thinking that all would turn out well. You’d complete your objective and be ravished by a Prince who couldn’t be tamed, returning home a hero and free to make your own choices.

 _Yes_ , you added to yourself bitterly, _and Loki could learn to love_.

Fantasies for readers with unrealistic expectations.

How you wish you could be one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story of mine! I love each and every one of you!
> 
> You know the drill. Kudos and Comments feed my soul and keep me motivated!
> 
> Until next time~!  
> xoxo


	11. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ll have to catch me,” you challenged, desperate to hold onto some semblance of power in this dynamic. You looked down towards the floor only to see your hands threaded together and clasped tightly in front of you. When did that happen? You pulled them roughly apart and made a conscious effort to keep them pinned to your sides. The awkward emptiness you felt after the fact was not comforting. The need to be held only confirmed your fears. The anxiety was getting worse.
> 
> Egil stopped at a door, no doubt the entrance to his townhome. He made no move to grasp the handle or turn to face you. Instead, he spoke to the space ahead of him with such confidence it drained the color from your face and broke the willpower that kept your hands apart. “I will.”
> 
> It sounded like a death sentence.

The air smelled like a pleasant mix of vanilla and honey, tainted with the unmistakable sharp scent of alcohol that clung to retiring guests who had consumed one too many glasses of top notch mead. The lights around the gardens seemed almost dimmer with the lack of dazzling garments to reflect off of. Laughter filtered through the remaining occupants and up the stairwell, trailing through the archway and across threshold that would lead them to their beds for a much needed slumber.

How you wish you could be one of them. Alas, there is no rest for the wicked. You and your ~~merry~~ band of misfits still had much to discuss before you could ever dream of heavy blankets and the copious amount of pillows that awaited you.

As you lingered under the glittering archway, waiting for the rest of your group to catch up with you, you surveyed the remnants of what would be a night you would never forget. Nothing particularly exceptional had transpired if you didn’t count the farcical episode that resulted in the prize now swimming in your half-filled glass of room temperature mead. Despite the fact that you didn’t end the evening locking hips with one emerald eyed mischief maker, it was pleasant to socialize and pretend to be a high status lady. Those opportunities didn’t come around often; try never. That isn’t to say you wouldn’t have _loved_ to have ended the evening that way, work had other plans.

But the night was still young. Perhaps there was still a chance?

“Coming, Eris?” inquired Sylvi, a light blush to her cheeks your only indication that she was indeed nervous about whatever verbal thrashing she and her sister would receive once behind closed doors. You understood that blush well. Liquid courage and you went way back.

“I’m afraid she has other arrangements for this evening”, spoke the unforgettable evil that, for the entirety of the evening, you had actually managed to forget about. The chill that seemed to crawl its way up your spine and leave your flesh freckled with goosebumps was unsurprising but still entirely unwelcome. Egil radiated that slimy cruelty that never failed to leave your skin crawling and your heart racing. Whatever he had in store for you, you knew it was nothing you wanted any part of.

His cool and clammy hand gripping your exposed shoulder made your body tense, keeping you from your only source of safety, your comrades. They all made no move to object. You didn’t blame them.

Close enough to be your shadow, Egil lurked behind you as he spoke over your ridged form to address the rest of your team. The way his fingers dug into the frame of your collar bone was the only thing keeping you standing.

_Please don’t let him take me._

“Sir?”, Calder asked for clarification. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Egil to snatch one of you up without warning, but based on pervious experiences, it wasn’t for a congratulation of a job well done.

_Don’t let him drug me._

“An audience with her has been requested”, Egil replied coolly. His grip remained the same. He wasn’t giving you an inch.

_I didn’t do anything wrong!_

Guided by self-preservation and a healthy dose of fear, you spoke up against your better judgement. “Can this audience wait until morning?” Eyes training straight ahead, you spoke through gritted teeth, covering your paranoia under a layer of sarcasm, “We’re limited on time.”

You felt the icy hand of death migrate from your exposed shoulder to around the back of your thin neck, fingers curling around the base and no doubt visible around the front of your throat. He spoke in a whisper barely audible, laced with contempt and topped with grin. “Such disrespect,” he hissed, every syllable pronounced and elongated for dramatic effect.

Before he could continue, your savior spoke up with the intention of saving you from yet another hole you dug yourself. “I’ll debrief Eris on the contents of our meeting,” confirmed Calder with a respectful nod.

So much for saving. He offered you up to the wolf hungry for blood.

While logical, (he was a Captain for Hel’s sake) it still hurt.

Egil released his hold on you as if suddenly aware he was still in view of the public eye and not behind closed doors. Your body sagged in relief once the present threat had passed. Knowing that there was nothing else that could be done and that you would have to spend time with this monster alone, you vowed to yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being afraid. Internally you might be screaming and quaking in your heels, but you would remain as disenchanted with his aura of evil as always. It was the only sort of power you had over him and gods did it get under his skin.

You offered the room temperature glass of mead to your Captain, careful of your phrasing should anyone overhear. “Do you mind holding onto this for me?” you smiled weakly. Calder’s fingers brushed yours as he accepted. He offered a small smile of encouragement. It did nothing for you. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it later.”

With that your two groups parted ways without another word. If your teammates were concerned about your wellbeing, they didn’t vocalize it.

There were only a few times in your life when you were left alone with Senator Egil. More often than not, those encounters left you with a needle in your flesh and your body secured too tightly to a table, prepped for mental conditioning. The serum was a mixture that left you dazed and kept your abilities at bay, allowing the madman to finally keep you still.

More often than not this was implemented when you had an episode of disobedience, of questions, and needed to be reminded what side you were on and the role you were assigned.

As Egil led you through a variety of twists and turns you did your best to keep a safe distance from him should the need to flee arise. Though it was unlikely that he would pull that sort of stunt in the house of Odin, you didn’t put it past his unstable rage and wounded pride to try. The man was quick to temper and had too much power for such a trait.

The pair of you didn’t speak for a majority of the journey. When Egil finally decided to fill the silence, you were unsurprised he chose an insult to initiate.

“You’re certainly dressed to impress as always,” Egil cast a sideways glance at your attire, taking note of the color as well as the skin it revealed with a displeased grimace.

“Staring are we, sir?” you pushed back, allowing a small grin to pull at the corners of your lips which quivered lightly as adrenaline fueled by anxiety flooded your senses. You dropped the grin just as quickly.

The man in question rolled his eyes and scoffed, as if insulted that he may find you even the least bit attractive. “You’re drawing unnecessary attention to yourself,” he stated matter of fact.

Passing by a painting displayed along one of the many walls in the palace, your eyes held it as you passed, thankful for any sort of excuse not to look at the floor or straight ahead. “Sometimes the best places to hide are in plain sight,” you offered softly as to not allow your voice to crack and give your façade away.

As you neared your destination you began to put the pieces together of where you might be heading. The décor along the walls and the subtle changes in architecture denoted a high class of guest. Surely you weren’t heading for the rooms reserved for diplomats? Surely you were being delusional. Egil was staying on this end of the palace. Were you going to his room?

Maybe you didn’t give him enough credit.

Maybe he was ballsy enough to squeeze in an episode of ~~torture~~ conditioning during your mission. After all, you had embarrassed him and nearly fucked the whole ordeal up and that was just day one.

Maybe he knew of your internal struggle and the questions in your head.

Maybe Einar told him? Would he offer you up like that? Calder did.

_Stop it. Give them more credit than that._

“One of these days you’ll learn your place,” Egil commented blandly, adjusting that damn scarf he wore to all special occasions. He was acting rather smug, even for him. Your typical tongue and cheek wasn’t getting under his skin. He knew something you didn’t.

“You’ll have to catch me,” you challenged, desperate to hold onto some semblance of power in this dynamic. You looked down towards the floor only to see your hands threaded together and clasped tightly in front of you. When did that happen? You pulled them roughly apart and made a conscious effort to keep them pinned to your sides. The awkward emptiness you felt after the fact was not comforting. The need to be held only confirmed your fears. The anxiety was getting worse.

Egil stopped at a door, no doubt the entrance to his townhome. He made no move to grasp the handle or turn to face you. Instead, he spoke to the space ahead of him with such confidence it drained the color from your face and broke the willpower that kept your hands apart. “I will.”

It sounded like a death sentence.

Grasping the handle and giving it a light push, Egil paused mid entrance and once again gave you a word of warning without giving you the respect of looking in your direction. “Mind your manners,” he ordered before allowing himself entrance into the brightly lit room. He did not hold the door for you, obviously.

You clung to his shadow and slipped through the doorway before it could close shut.

The room was impressive and stretched impossibly long in all directions, giving it more than enough breathing room for the lavish furniture that decorated it. A grand piano, pillows of various sizes spread around the base of it the first to catch your attention. A quaint integrated parlor with cushioned chairs and a chaise lounge the second, followed by the large fireplace that filled the room with warmth and richness. The arched ceiling made the room feel even more impossibly large, kept standing by pillars of white marble threaded with gold. Finally, tall blue gossamer curtains and ropes of gold lined what you expected to be the entrance to a grand patio, made to make the guest feel pampered and respectable.

It put your small common room to shame. This room even had its own bookshelves filled with what you assumed catered to the history and passions of the guest within.

Silks of the family royal colors draped here and there along the ceiling to give it an almost ethereal and magical atmosphere.

 “Tacky, is it not?” Egil muttered, bitterness in tone as he looked around the room in disgust.

“That wouldn’t be the word I’d use,” you breathed, so enchanted with your surroundings that you forgot to be afraid.

Asgard was truly a beautiful place. Its inhabitants were lucky indeed.

“My dear, you always were more cultured than most,” laughed a familiar hearty and wizened older man.

Any anxiety left in your heart fled at the sound and a grin replaced the wary expression set in your jaw. You were safe. Attention drawn to the location of your haven, you found yourself pulled to the parlor of the room with that lovely chaise lounge and roaring fire. This time you noticed a table with two perfectly poured drinks and a kind looking man dressed in robes finer than Egils but less out of place, as if the garments suited his status. He sat comfortably in one of the large chairs, one hand holding a book while in the other, a matching glass no doubt filled with what lay set on the table before him. The dancing fire brought out the rich purple hues of his long robes and made his blue eyes sparkle with life as he gazed up you, pride akin to a father radiating off of him.

You wasted no time in rushing over to the figure that had always been nothing but kind to you. In a way, he played the part of the father you wished you had.

Laughter spilled into the air as you ambushed the man, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his shoulder that shook with mirth as he tried his best not to spill his drink on your gown. “It is so nice to see you so full of life!” the man proclaimed, setting his book aside to reciprocate the embrace.

He smelled of old magic and sage, like always.

_Wait until I tell the others!_

“It is so nice to see you Senator Eirik,” you cried, overcome with a mixture of relief and cured homesickness that you weren’t aware you had. Pulling away, the man gestured for you to take a seat on the chaise. You eagerly complied.

“That’s _Royal_   Senator, Eris,” spat the venom of Senator Egil who had by this point caught up with the pair of you and stood menacingly near the fire. “Learn your place.”

The older gentleman wasted no time coming to your aid. “And you, _Senator_ -” he regarded Egil with a harshness reserved for disobedience- “are wise to learn yours. This girl has earned the right to be lax with my title. I cannot say the same for you.” He straightened his posture and shifted his position to the edge of the chair. His shoulder length grey curls spilled over his broad shoulders as he leaned forward ever so slightly to convey the seriousness of his point. “You could learn a thing or two from her,” he commented with a frown. “Come, sit” It was not a request.

It was no surprise that Egil opted for the chair opposite his master, back to the fire as if needing the warmth to thaw the effects of the man’s cold shoulder.

Royal Senator Eirik gestured to the glasses so carefully set on the table centered between the three of you. Egil gracefully declined with a gesture of his hand while you wasted no time in claiming your own, gaining a disapproving frown from the devil incarnate.

Deciding not to poke the dragon, Eirik instead turned his attention towards you. “How have you been fairing, my dear?” he asked genuinely.

The opportunity to throw the man giving you hell under the bus was almost too tempting to ignore, but somehow you managed. Doing so would sacrifice immediate satisfaction for later lashings. Egil didn’t respond well to embarrassment, especially in front of the master he was so desperate to gain favor from. “Well, my Lord. It is so nice to see you. I didn’t think you would make an appearance,” you sipped from your cup, delighted to find it was red wine, rich with sweet bitterness.

Eirik mimicked your actions, the white scruff of a days lack of shaving stained pink with the liquor. Wiping it away, he regarded you with fondness. “I had an audience with the Allfather regarding the renewal of our treaty”, informed the man.

“Of which will be ongoing?” you asked with hesitancy, assuming confirmation.

He nodded. “Of course,” he assured you, taking the opportunity to recline back into his chair. “We’ve maintained the treaty for centuries. Why stop now?”

Curiosity whispered in your ear. _Then what was the point of this mission?_

If not to give us leverage of a broken treaty, what could be the goal?

“Do you like the hospitality of our guests?” continued Eirik, gesturing the large expanse of the room that you found yourself in the middle of.

“Words can’t describe how grateful I am. Everything here is so different from home,” you sighed.

“You prefer it?” Eirik observed, noting the way your eyes drifted to the fireplace. Admittedly, there was nothing quite so lavish back home. It would be easy to become spoiled by such luxuries. Luxuries your home, at a time, possessed. That was long before you found yourself there, but those like Egil and Eirik remembered them well.

You were quick to respond, intent upon dismissing any disrespect you may have insinuated. “It is not that I dislike home, sir” you rushed, waving your free hand in front of you for emphasis. You paused, catching glimpse of the piano on the other end of the room. You sighed, a faraway look in your eyes. “But this place is so grand.”

“I see,” trailed the Royal Senator; the splendor of Asgard always leaving an impression on him as well during his visits.

You broke your trance and turned your attention towards the man you would call father to yourself. You didn’t mean to offend him. “They have a real library,” you urged, as if it was a logical end all explanation to your lack of home pride. “A library with books not layered in mildew and mold,” your eyes drifted upwards as you pictured the grand room in your mind’s eye. “Books you can _read_.”

Senator Eirik only smiled at your display, eyes crinkling as his cheeks rose with the expression. “It is our hope that we can bring Vanaheim back to its former glory,” he explained, his words drawing your attention back in. “This mission you and your team have been assigned is a key part in its restoration.”

 _How?_   You wanted to ask, but knew better than to pose the question. Instead, you settled for something a little less direct. “We haven’t received any details other than our goal,” you informed, hoping to get some sort of an answer indirectly.

“This is intentional,” Eirik stated with a sort of nonchalance you found frustrating. It was parental in the way fathers thought they knew what was best for you. “The less you know, the safer you are-” he took a casual sip from his glass, wiping his upper lip again before continuing- “Should things go wrong it would be better if you didn’t know the details.”

You almost felt insulted. “We would never confess our true intentions-” you narrowed your eyes- “You’ve trained us better than that.”

Eirik sighed as he realized the fault in his words. Setting his glass down on the table, he leaned over and extended his hands towards you, a sad smile playing on his lips.

Indulging in a sigh yourself, you did the same and complied, meeting his hands with yours. Eirik clasped them securely in his own. You took note of their warmth and felt the ice in your heart begin to thaw.

“It is not _that_ I fear, young one,” he began, looking deep into your eyes to maintain your connection. “it is their magic.” At your questioning expression he elaborated, “Spells exist to pull the truth even when it is buried deep in your subconscious. There are very powerful sorcerers in Asgard.”

“Like Prince Loki?” The words tumbled out of your lips before you had a chance to think clearly.

Eirik laughed heartily, pulling his hands away from yours to settle his chest which rumbled with mirth. “Yes, my dear,” he shook his head, smile on his lips as little chuckles tumbled out from them every so often. When the moment had passed and his shoulders had settled from the amusement that rocked them, he continued. “It was his mother who I was referring to, however. Her prowess in the magical arts is legendary.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. Deciding death would be better than living in this mortifying moment, you drowned yourself in your glass of wine which you quickly snatched up off the table.

Eirik would not let you off the hook so easily. What kind of father figure would he be if he didn’t indulge in your mortification a little longer? “Interesting though,” he mused through wizened eyes, “that her son should be the first to your thoughts.”

It was at this moment that Egil decided to end his silence. He had tried to hold his tongue up until now but his constitution had reached its end. “She’s been _fraternizing_   with him, my lord,” he spat, hands on his knees as he raised his chin to regard you with contempt. “ _Whoring_ herself to that _bastard_   of Asgard-”

The next moment was too fast to follow. Egil’s mouth had, quite literally, sealed itself shut seconds after it began to run. His lips were pressed so tightly together that Egil’s nostrils flared to get any sort of oxygen to his lungs. His dark eyes widened with horror as he struggled against the magic keeping his mouth from opening.

It was not difficult to deduce that the spell came from Senator Eirik (it certainly didn’t come from you), the anger in his usually kind eyes flaring as he glared down his disciple. He needed no words for his spells or any sort of gesture to make his sorcery work. He was old magic, dangerous. “Different though he may be he is still a Prince and you will refer to him as such, Egil,” Eirik growled, dropping his title on purpose. Egil sunk into himself and into the chair he sat in, desperate to make himself as small as possible. “As for Eris,” Eirik snapped, “not only is it no concern of yours what she does with her body, but her efforts in gaining the Prince’s attention have done more for Vanaheim than you ever have. You will be wise to hold your tongue or I will remove it. Is that clear?”

The speed at which Egil nodded in compliance was enough to break his own neck. You had to admit there was something satisfying at seeing the man who inflicted so much pain upon you and your comrades reduced to a submissive dog left to beg. You finished your drink with glee and devoured the display with greedy eyes.

Egil’s silence ended too soon as Eirik released him from his spell, momentarily satiated by the eagerness of his subordinate. Sitting in silence, Egil took slow and shaky breaths, not daring to say another word lest he anger his master further.

Feeling all the confidence of the mortal Icarus, you crossed your legs and leaned forward slowly, setting your empty glass upon the table and snatching Egil’s. Bringing his drink to your lips, you lazily took a sip and basked in the contempt Egil was radiating. With Eirik here, you were untouchable. You’d worry about the repercussions to this meeting later; best to not spoil this once in a lifetime experience.

Eirik reclined once again into the comfort of his chair, exhausted from the mental energy it must have taken to not snap Egil’s neck in two. He pinched the arch of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes, brows knitted in an attempt to alleviate his frustration and focus on the present.

After a moment of silence from all parties; you sipping awkwardly from your stolen cup, Egil trying to contain his rage while still fearing for his life, and Eirik clearly annoyed that he had to ruin such a pleasant conversation, Eirik found himself calm enough to converse again. He sighed heavily; wearing a sad smile as he let his hands drop to the arm rests of the chair, heavy with the weight of responsibility. “Now that the mood is spoiled, I suppose it’s onto business then?” he stated as if he would have liked to have put the topic off for just a little longer.

“Sir?” you asked warily. This wasn’t a pleasant drop in, while-I-was-in-the-area-might-as-well-say-hi, kind of meeting?

“I was not speaking lightly when I said your efforts in gaining the Princes attentions were bettering the whole of your home,” his attention was solely on you, as if what was coming was important but difficult to swallow.

You sipped from your glass nervously as Eirik continued. “As you are aware you are to collect items from each of the members of the royal family.” It was not a question, more of a statement.

You nodded. “Yes, sir. We managed a ring from the Allmother this evening.”

Warmth akin to a fathers pride made Eirik glow as his serious expression melted into a gentle smile. “Of course you have,” he chuckled. “I expect no less from you.”

You did not share the same sentiment, still waiting for the theoretical shoe to drop and your night to get a whole lot worse. “It is the Allfather I worry about,” you confessed, voice pleading for help in the matter. If anyone was close enough to the God, it would be Eirik. No one else met with him in private or had the history those two had. If anyone could help you, it would be him.

“Don’t,” scoffed the Royal Senator, rolling his eyes as if the very idea was ludicrous. “That old man is a fool and blinded by his own ego. By far he is the simplest of your goals next to his too trusting of a son.”

Was that bitterness in his tone? You couldn’t recall him ever speaking ill of the Allfather, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did. Odin was a conqueror long before he was an advocate for peace. Eirik along with the whole of Vanaheim were the conquered. Remnants of resentment would be normal, even expected.

You smirked, feeling validated in your slight distain for the God. “I assume you don’t speak of Prince Loki?” you spoke into your glass before taking a sip.

Egil rolled his eyes.

Eirik didn’t miss the gesture and shot him a warning look which sobered up the man pretty quick. “You are correct,” Eirik stated. He paused, taking a breath before dropping the start of the real conversation. “And you need not worry yourself about Odin. Calder and the others will focus their efforts on Thor and the Allfather.”

Ah, here it was. The reason you were here.

“And I-?” you started with a raise of your brow, knowing the answer but playing along regardless.

“Are to focus entirely on the second Prince,” finished Eirik. Staring into your eyes and as he searched for any sign of protest. What he found were questions swimming rampantly within them.

You knew you’re facial expressions gave you away. If there was any lesson you learned over the last day or so it was that you couldn’t trust your eyes, not with people who knew you like family. Therefore you knew your curiosity was subject for inspection from the man that was practically your father. With Eirik, the truth was always far better than the lie. “Steal from him,” you clarified. It was as much a statement as it was a question.

“Not steal,” Eirik interjected. Raising his head a little higher, he straightened his spine and threaded his fingers together. It was explanation time.

Took him long enough.

“Prince Loki doesn’t value anything he possesses,” Eirik explained. “He values it when he gives it away of his own accord, which is rare. He is incredibly sentimental though you would have to know his past to understand why.” The man shrugged his shoulders as if all of this were common knowledge. “Nothing in Asgard is his birthright so he cares for nothing in Asgard.”

You blinked a few times trying to get a grasp on seemingly obvious observation that Eirik came to but found yourself struggling. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” you admitted.

“You will,” he assured you. And once again you were left frustrated at the lack of information and parental comments being thrown your way.

“But that is not the topic of discussion,” Eirik continued.

_Of course it isn’t._

You’re attention peaked, you found yourself holding your wine glass to the side, focused too intently on the next words the Royal Senator would speak to continue drinking.

“The act of gifting an item voluntarily raises the items value to him,” the man continued, “It becomes personal.”

Putting two and two together you came to the only viable conclusion. “You want me to get Prince Loki to give me a gift?”

“Yes,” Eirik nodded.

“He’s incredibly selfish,” you stated, rolling your eyes and waving a hand for emphasis.

“And notoriously _icy_ , if you will,” Eirik chuckled as if amused by his own joke. From opposite him, even Egil snickered.

_Old people._

Clearly not informed of this inside joke, you moved on, suddenly uncomfortable with where this conversation was leading and having a feeling that that shoe would be dropping any second now. “How then, am I supposed to have him gift me an item? Melt his frozen heart?” you scoffed, letting yourself collapse against the back of the chaise. “Someone like Loki doesn’t love.”

_Wow, why did that sound so bitter in my head?_

“Make him,” Eirik concluded.

There is was. The shoe was a lot bigger than you thought.

“I’m sorry?” you blinked.

“Make him love you,” Eirik said obviously.

“I can’t,” you balked, raising your free hand in front of you in defense.

“You’re halfway there”

_Say what?_

This was ridiculous; insane and ridiculous. Loki was clever in ways you couldn’t dream of. He was intelligent and most importantly, the God of Lies and Mischief. He would smell your deceit a mile away. You were good at lying, it was part of your job, but him; it was part of his title. This would never work.

“I’ve never made anyone fall in love with me,” you pressed, desperate for Eirik to come to his senses. “Have you seen me?” Gesturing to your outfit, you laughed sarcastically. “I’ve made many a man want me, but never more than for my flesh. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“No one else has any chance of gaining an item from him. It’s you or nothing,” Eirik refused to take no for an answer. He knew you would come around; it would just take some careful persuading.

“I can tell you he isn’t capable of love,” you said flatly.

“And how do you know this?” asked Eirik, feigning genuine concern.

You were silent, trying to form the right words. What you were left with sounded depressing even to your own ears. “He’s like me.”

Eirik took the appropriate amount of time to pause. Not too short to demonstrate he wasn’t listening, but not too long to agree with your statement. He took the right amount of time to stop, smile encouragingly, and lift your head up. “And that is how you will win,” he whispered, every syllable meant to lift your spirits.

You had to admit, it was a noble effort. It would have worked even, if it wasn’t for the realization you made in your silence moments ago. Loki was like you, untrusting, putting up a front to hide the pain and utter loneliness that ate at you in the darkest hours of the night; masking the pain with jokes and quick witted insults meant to keep safe your fragile heart. Loki was like you. To let someone in and leave yourself so utterly exposed would only happen once. Betraying that trust would end you; would end him. For some reason, the thought pained your soul.

“And when we leave-” you tore your eyes away from Eirik’s and pulled your head away from his reassuring touch- “what am I to do? Break his heart?”

Unwavering, Eirik responded with the strength of a King. “If that is what you must do.”

“This will ruin him for eternity. There’s no coming back from that,” you pressed.

Eirik smiled sadly. He had a habit of doing that. It was beginning to feel a lot like pity. “Eternity is a long time, Eris,” he picked up his glass from the table and took another sip. “If you are truly concerned about him, do not be. There are many others between now and the end of eternity. At some point-” he shrugged as if what he said couldn’t be helped- “he will be married away per Odin’s master plan to join more realms to his belt.”

“Can you do this?” Egil broke his silence, this time sounding much more in control of his emotions.

You scoffed; another attempt to wall yourself off from your real emotions. Your grasp on the body of the delicate wine glass grew a little tighter. “I can,” you agreed.

_Why do I feel so angry?_

“I have no doubts you won’t succeed,” Eirik assured you.

You put on your best smile though it felt forced and false. Hurt was quickly turning into rage on the inside as your heart rate picked up speed. “I will do my best, my lord,” you bowed your head in acceptance.

_Why do I care about whether he ends up with some rich girl?_

“As you always do,” Eirik inclined his head in respect towards you before taking a victorious sip of wine.

_He’ll hate me._

_Why does that bother me?_

_He’ll never want to look at me again._

_Why does that hurt?_

_I don’t want him to hate me._

_Why?_

Your thoughts were spinning as your eyes glossed over, leaving you staring blankly at your knees. Both Eirik and Egil were finally on speaking terms it seemed as you caught the muffled sound of their voices intermixing but you couldn’t make out what they were saying, or rather couldn’t focus on the words. Your mind was elsewhere.

 _I don’t want to hurt him_. The realization stung.

_Why?_

_He doesn’t deserve it._ He didn’t.

_He hurts so much already._

_He hurts like me._

_Do your job. Focus on the mission._

_But-_

_Do your job._

_Focus on the mission._

_Do your job-_

“-Eris,” Eirik jolted you out from the war in your head.

You looked up at him, blinking as you acclimated your way back to reality. He gestured to your hand holding the wine glass.

So consumed were you in your thoughts, fighting for control that you didn’t realize your grip had tightened to the point where the glass had snapped under the pressure, crushed with your anger. Blood mixed with wine ran down between your fingers as little pieces of splintered glass stuck out from your pale flesh. You didn’t wince. You didn’t feel anything.

Eirik narrowed his eyes and offered the only sort of wisdom he could to a heart as torn as yours. “Focus on the mission.”

Easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darlings! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting! I had a small hiatus to take some time for myself but I'm back now!
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed this plot development as it moves the angst forward. The next chapter is another rated M one, so you know what that means! Smutty goodness. I'll update as soon as I can.
> 
> Know that I love and appreciate you all. Thank you for your kind words and continued support! I hope adding another character didn't complicate things too much for you, but this should be the last original one for now! Going forward there will be much more Loki!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Are the characters interesting? Are you bored at all?
> 
> Tell me all the things! You rock my socks ;3
> 
> xoxo


	12. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You couldn’t help it, you let yourself smile, perverse though it was. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely insufferable?”
> 
> “Daily,” Loki rolled his eyes without missing a beat, “But apparently I give good head” Grin to match yours, he closed his book one handed and finally, finally, turned his attention towards you. “That’s the reason you’re here, right? Don’t tell me it’s for my winning personality and profound conversation”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm allllivvveeee! Holy cow has it really been months since I last posted?
> 
> My sincerest apologies! I guess I needed to take a step back and make sure this story was going in the direction I originally intended. I was feeling conflicted, like I wanted to do things to change the story in order for people to like it more, rather than staying true to myself.
> 
> I spent the last few days totally reworking and planning the chapters out in detail (seriously there's an excel spreadsheet I'm not kidding) and I hope it's something that you will all find as satisfying as I do.
> 
> Special thanks to the reviewers who kicked me out of my slump and made me realize that this story is more than just for me.
> 
> With all that said, please enjoy!

His chamber door was more intimidating now than ever. Prior to your little conversation with the Royal Senator, Loki’s door was nothing more than just that, a door; an elegantly carved piece of wood that divided his private space from a general shared space of the Asgardian royal palace. After that conversation however, it suddenly became so much more than just a door. It was a threshold that would transport you to place, that up until now; you had never morally crossed before. A line in the sand that suddenly became blurred and complicated.

To be perfectly honest you weren’t quite sure why you lurking outside of the Prince’s bedroom. Split between duty and an actual need for companionship, you weren’t certain which idea took hold of your brain before you made the jump here. Perhaps it was both? Loki was the only one that came to mind the moment you politely excused yourself from that _enlightening_ conversation. Of course, Einar could have served as an alternative option for company, but he wouldn’t be a good enough distraction. To be honest he’d really only serve as a reminder. Loki on the other hand, could be both, which was better if not by a small margin. Einar also wasn’t one for stimulating conversation.

So you found yourself in front of the serpent’s gates, heart racing and nerves frayed from the adrenaline your body produced over the mere _thought_ of knocking on his door, which was ridiculous. Any other time you’d barge in like you owned the place without a second thought.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

You raised your bandaged hand to knock on the heavy wooden door but hesitated an inch from impact ~~like a bitch~~.

Would Loki even want to talk to you? It wasn’t as if you were worried that you would wake him from his slumber. The light bags under his eyes told the tale of a man who never got a full nights rest anyway.

Up until this point your relationship (if you could call it that) had been strictly of a physical nature. The only scene of actual raw emotion that you shared was that fleeting moment in the library where you caught a glimpse of the self-hating man that simmered just beneath the surface; unwanted and imperfect and beautiful to you all the same.

Silently, you opened your fist and delicately placed it palm flat on the door’s carved surface.

Wasn’t this playing right into the hands of the Royal Senator? You being here was exactly what he wanted, exactly what you needed to do to further their gains.

Loki was fun to be around. Trading wits back and forth like you’d been friends for years; it was easy to talk to him. You wanted so desperately to have a genuine connection with someone who you didn’t have to tip toe around; someone you could speak your mind to without the fear of it ending with needles in your skin because you slipped up and said or thought something that should have stayed buried.

You were selfish. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too; special connection _and_ a job well done. This wasn’t how the story went. Someone was going to get hurt. It was just up to you to decide who that was. The Prince who you’d known for just over two days, or yourself?

You were being overdramatic. Mulling over an inner monologue like you were _actually conflicted_ and didn’t know exactly what choice you would make; like you were considering the noble option. Eying the bandages on your hands, you already knew the answer; you were just procrastinating because it painted you the villain in this story.

You would choose yourself. Because you were selfish and he–

He was unlucky.

“Are you really just going to stand there all night?” called the unmistakable voice of the source of your current anxiety, Loki Odinson. From the other side of the door you were currently brooding on, his tone was relaxed and level headed, almost bored; like he’d been aware of your presence since you arrived and had been waiting for you to make the first move ~~which you totally didn’t~~.

Lips curling into a secret smile that was all your own, you felt a tinge of regret pluck your thawing heartstrings. Odin help you, you were really going to do this. You were going to destroy the one good thing in your life, maybe even yourself in the process.

At least it would be better than whatever Egil had in store for you should you fail, right?

Right?

You tried the door but to your annoyance it was locked tight. You tried it again as if the second time would be different; it wasn’t.

The softest sound of music could be heard on the other side of the sealed barrier. It rose and fell like gentle waves caressing the sand of a moonlit beach. You hadn’t ever heard anything like it and your heart nearly broke at the sound. Loki’s laughter was ethereal.

“Come now,” he snickered like a child accomplishing the perfect prank, “Don’t let that stop you”

Wiping the stupid smile off your face and replacing it with something akin to annoyance, you slipped through the door, your mind’s eye focusing on the room you had so much fun in the night prior.

Loki was lounging like cat across his bed, legs crossed at the ankles and shoulders elevated slightly from a pair of pillows stacked one on top of the other. He had long since changed out of his stuffy formal wear and had opted for something much more loose; his signature colors still very much a part of his new ensemble. In his hands was a book he was lazily flipping through. His fingers never brushed the pages, however. Instead, the edges of the paper shimmered with iridescent emerald light as did the tip of his middle finger as he idly use his magic for the most mundane of tasks. Loki’s normally pristine hair was lightly tussled from shifting against his pillow to find the perfect reading position. Though his expression mimicked one of boredom, you could still see the red flush of his cheeks and stifled rise and fall of his chest; tell-tale signs of someone who had been laughing a little too hard.

You mentally rolled your eyes at the image. This was clearly staged.

His emerald eyes shifted momentarily over in your direction as he assessed your state of dress. The fact that it had been a few hours since the party had concluded and you were still clad in the gown that couldn’t have been very comfortable was not lost on him; neither was your bandaged hand. His eyes returned to the book as he lazily flipped another page. “Now where have you been all night?” he mused, face neutral and unreadable.

“What is that supposed to imply?” you snapped back, a spike of adrenaline making your words seem a little more defensive than necessary. _Get a grip on yourself!_

Loki took another beat before flipping yet another page. “Nothing,” he said blandly “Just an observation. Am I supposed to be implying something?”

You shifted your hips and turned your head away, a scowl stretching your lips as you forced back a smile. With Loki currently not giving you the time of day, you took the chance to look over the room you stood so awkwardly in the entrance of. It had been cleaned up since you last left it, everything put back in their proper locations save for one tiny detail. The shirt he used to bind your wrists still laid tied loosely around that all too familiar bed post.

So he was sentimental. Go figure.

You couldn’t help it, you let yourself smile, perverse though it was. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely insufferable?”

“Daily,” he rolled his eyes without missing a beat, “But apparently I give good head” Grin to match yours, he closed his book one handed and finally, _finally,_ turned his attention towards you. “That’s the reason you’re here, right? Don’t tell me it’s for my winning personality and profound conversation”

Taking the invitation, you sauntered over to the Prince you would make your captive and lifted the sides of your dress, ~~if you could call it that~~ and swung a leg over his hips. Legs folding near his sides, you could have sworn he purred at your actions. “What’s wrong with your winning personality?” you teased, fiddling the ties of his shirt.

His hands gripped your wrists. The look in his eyes looked almost pained. “Don’t joke,” he demanded.

Thawed, your heartstrings began to tug and ache. “I’m not joking,” you whispered, leaning forward as you hovered inches from his perfect lips.

Surrendering to the moment, the Prince let his hands wander up the sides of your dress until his nimble fingers caressed the skin of your thighs; expertly making little circles with his thumbs like a man familiar. His breath was hot against your lips, smelling lightly of expensive honeyed wine. “Let’s not pretend that this is anything more than what it is,” he offered.

Time began to slow and your vision slipped from his hooded eyes, down his slender nose, and lingered longingly on his plush lips that served as his most crafted weapon. “Fair enough,” you breathed, captivated by the spell he so perfectly reversed. What were you doing here again?

“I want to hear you say it,” the Liesmith matched your breathless tone. His grip on your thighs increased, but only just so.

It was enough to break through the fog that clouded your senses.

“Say what?” you challenged, tone filling with life as you leaned backwards and intentionally ground your hips against his. “That I want you?” you hissed, repeating the action. His eyes flashed dangerously. “That I need you?”

“Is that not your reason for being here?” he inquired, surprisingly level headed despite the animalistic look in his eyes.

After all, why else would you be here?

They all wanted the same thing; his body, his sex, his status. They’d flock from all reaches of the realms and all the corners of Asgard just for a night with him. Dangerous, powerful, and mysterious was all it took for them to seek him out through all the hours of the night. Loki hadn’t actively pursued anyone in years; he didn’t need to.

But during the day? Not a soul sought his company. He was the untamable Prince, suited perfectly for dark fantasies but never more than that. There were times, dare he admit, that he felt like the whore of Asgard; desired and wanted but never for more than flesh. It was, to be honest, a little unsettling at times. If it wasn’t for his body, it was the promise of a title and inclusion into the royal family that got him attention from the opposite sex.

He hoped you were different somehow. Little stolen moments with you gave him reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, you would see him as more than a body made for sin. Your hesitancy to give him everything, string the game along as long as you could resist only strengthened this belief. He had long since left his heart out of encounters with beautiful women. Embracing his reputation became almost second nature; like breathing.

 

“I want to make something perfectly clear,” you began, lifting his chin with a delicate finger until his eyes bore into yours. Haunting, years of self-loathing stared back at you, hidden only by a thin veil of false acceptance. It was almost eerie, staring into such a broken mirror. It threw you off kilter for a moment.

 

Loki knew what was next. It was the moment that would prove him wrong. The moment you would blend with the other faceless women who moaned his name in the empty night.

“Demanding aren’t we?” Loki mocked, the truth behind his eyes pushed deep like he knew he had slipped. “Please, spare me your lovesick confession. If that’s where this is heading I wouldn’t blame you but–” he gripped your hips and used his weight to roll you over, placing himself directly on top of you as he eyed you in amusement– “I’m really not interested in anything more than my satisfaction”

See? Just like breathing.

 

There it was; confirmation.

Confirmation that this would be just as difficult as you thought; damn right near impossible even. Loki didn’t love; it wasn’t an opinion, just a simple fact. But still–

_Hearing it hurt like a bitch._

Think. _Think_. What was the best way to get _you_ to do something?

_Telling you not to do that something._

_Wow, were you really that easy?_

It was worth a shot. Call it an experiment to see if the pair of you really were two sides of the same coin. “I don’t do sleepovers,” you stated simply. Loki’s eyebrows raised in question. “I don’t stay the night,” you clarified.

“Afraid of a little pillow talk?” Loki teased.

You shrugged your shoulders, a difficult action with the position you were in, “It’s just not my thing,” you lied.

“Any other _conditions_?” Loki asked, aware that this felt almost _fun_ somehow. He wanted more. This part, _this was different_.

“And if you want me on my knees you’ll have to work for it,” you added proudly.

The Prince grinned, wild and wide, “Give it time,” he cooed, “I’ll have you on all fours soon enough. You might actually find the position comfortable”

It was his turn to play with the front of your dress, hips grinding down on you as he leaned dangerously close to your lips. He wanted to make this a little more interesting. Up the stakes and see how far you’d go; how far he’d go. What was a little war between friends? Eager, he traced the shell of your ear with his lips, taking his time and getting you drunk off the sensation. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, a jovial lilt to his otherwise seductive tone. “Are you sure you won’t fall for me all the same? What makes you think you’re different from the scores I’ve had before?”

You snickered. You couldn’t help it.

_Men and their fragile egos_.

“Is this a new game?” you tested, draping your arms around his neck to bring his ear closer to your lips.

“Is it?” Loki flirted back, feigning innocence.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the rules,” you mirrored innocently back. Two could play at this game.

 

And that is when it dawned on you. This was the moment Royal Senator Eirik told you about. This was the moment that _you could win_. He liked a challenge as much as you did.

Dropping the act, you licked the bottom of his ear and nipped it suggestively. “I think it might be fun, don’t you?” you purred.

Loki’s body hummed in response, his hips grinding into yours with appreciation. “You don’t have but five days left here, don’t you?” he asked, eager to set the stakes and iron out the rules he would undoubtedly bend.

“Don’t let that stop you”

“Hellcat”

“Deviant”

“Mine”

“What?” you blinked in surprise, pushing his shoulders up to give you space. You shot him an incredulous look. “What did you say?”

“Mine,” Loki affirmed smugly. “If I win, you stay here and forsake your life on Vanaheim”

You stared up at him, unable to form any sort of coherent thought. Was this real life? Was this _actually happening_?

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet!” Loki purred, aching to see just how far you would go. He was crazed with boredom and you were the perfect solution. If you stopped now he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Stay here and do what, exactly,” you pressed. You knew better than to make a deal with the devil before reading the fine print.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Loki mused, eyes drifting off to the side as he pictured you in various fantasies, each one more thrilling than the last. “How about you become my concubine? You’re certainly dressed the part aren’t you? We’ll start a harem!”

 “I am not going to be an Asgardian whore!” you snapped, though it was really the thought of sharing that turned you off to the idea. What? You had needs too.

“That sure you’ll fall for my charms then?” the Prince countered, intentionally pressing your buttons, daring you to go for it.

You thought of the mission and how this was most likely your best shot at accomplishing it. There wouldn’t be a more perfect opening. And the best part? He came up with it. “Alright,” you nodded, “I accept your terms”

Loki practically cackled, he was so pleased. “Wonderful! The deal has been struck!”

“Not so fast,” you interjected, leaning forward and pushing him backwards with one hand planted firmly on his chest until you were the one on top. “What do I get out of it if I win?”

“But you won’t,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I’m impossible to resist” He shot you a perfectly practiced wink to emphasize his point.

His confidence was indeed impressive.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Humor me then?”

“What do you want?” he asked with a raised brow. “May I remind you, that you have a Prince at your disposal. You could ask for anything” He wanted you to choose something absurd, something he wasn’t willing to give. He wanted the stakes to be _real._

Grinning, you’d put his money where his mouth was. “You. Me. Thor. Threesome”

Okay maybe not _that_ real.

“Absolutely not,” he dismissed the idea almost before you had a chance to finish.

“That sure you’ll fall for my charms?” you mocked.

“You using my words against me the first time was cute,” he groaned, “Now it’s becoming a headache”

Pleased as punch, you wiggled your hips and licked your lips at the idea of winning, forgetting for just a moment that this deal wasn’t the exactly the highest stakes game you were involved in. “Do you accept?”

Sighing much too dramatically, Loki let his head fall back against the plush mattress. “Fine,” he caved, “But you have to ask him”

“Deal!” you chirped.

“So we both understand each other,” Loki continued, mildly surprised that you managed to get him to agree to such a preposterous idea, “The first to win the romantic affections of the other is the winner”

“But there must be a confession,” you added, “otherwise either one of us could just _say_ that the other had romantic feelings for them”

“Fine, yes. There must be a confession,” Loki rolled his eyes as if his loophole had just been closed. He’d have to find another one it seemed.

Eyes sparkling, you felt your heart already skip a beat at the prospect. _You could have your cake and eat it too!_ “Then it sounds good enough for me,” you winked.

Loki grinned wickedly, “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

You mimicked his expression, pulling at the fabric of his pants. “I have a better idea”

 

Swept up in the moment you forgot. This wasn’t how the story went.

Someone was going to get hurt.

Just remember it was you who decided you would both go down together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me ~ <3


	13. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m right aren’t I?” he growled low, “I want to hear you say it” He pressed his hips upwards again and you winced at how unapologetically hard he was beneath you. “Say it for me,” he begged, pushing upwards again “Tell me you want me.”
> 
> How could you deny that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell from the summary, this chapter has a touch of maturity to it. Please be advised going forward!

“Odin, help me I’m going to burn these books,” you growled, glaring intently at the elaborate spins of the tomes you once loved. They were taunting you; mocking you. “I thought we had a connection here!” you cried, as if begging the books to give up their joke and reveal the texts you sought. They did not. It was almost as if they didn’t appreciate being threatened ~~or that they were inanimate objects incapable of thoughts or feelings~~.

You had spent what felt like hours searching through your second most favorite room in Asgard with no results. If you weren’t so stubborn you would have long since left to visit your first favorite room by now.

A dazed smile crept its way onto your lips at the thought; though you had last been there only hours ago, you were aching to go back both figuratively and literally. You traced the spine of a coincidentally green novel, recounting the previous night’s events fondly.

_The screaming_

_The pleading_

_The licking_

Maybe this was why you were having trouble focusing.

Pulling yet _another_ book from _another_ massive shelf, you let out an audible groan and rolled your head back in frustration. From the small window between massive texts, an inquisitive face peered down at you, stifling a snicker at your expense.

You spun around, letting your shoulder blades collapse against the bookshelf at an uncomfortable angle, frustration making you entirely unaware of your rather entertained audience.

Crystal blue eyes side glanced down at your exasperated state. “No books on Vanaheim?” teased your spectator.

An audible ‘thump’ followed immediately afterwards, the result of your book slipping through your clutches and colliding with the ground. Before you knew it, you had vanished from your position on the bookshelf and made your new home along the second floor of the room, gripping the banister that overlooked the main floor, purple smoke licking at your heels. Panicked eyes scanned the room for the intruder.

Shrieks of laughter could be heard downstairs, muffled only slightly by the shelves that broke the sound into fragmented pieces. Though it sounded distinctly feminine, the words they spoke rung differently in your head. Mocking velvet and condescending emerald eyes drifted to the forefront of your mind.

 “You seem in need of assistance!” the voice called out.

The familiar sound of heels on marble sang off the walls of the room as they made their way through the shelves and towards the entrance of the room. You ~~hoped~~ half expected to see raven hair despite the feminine lilt to the intruder. What you were met with was bouncy strawberry blonde hair and a positively pleased-with-herself grin stretched across a freckled dusted face. Bright blue eyes beamed back at you as the girl waved a little too enthusiastically for your taste. “I got you good,” she chuckled behind a slender hand. “I mean I thought I’d surprise you but I didn’t think I’d _scare_ _you._ Aren’t you supposed to be a badass or something?”

Your grip on the banister railing tightened as you glared daggers at the familiar servant girl below. A low growl rumbled through your chest, the feeling of embarrassment utterly destroying you from the inside out. “Don’t you have work to do?” you snapped.

She didn’t seem phased. “Always,” she shrugged.

In a flash you were downstairs, picking up the book you dropped with the grace of someone who definitely wasn’t scared shitless earlier. “Don’t let me keep you then,” you snipped coldly, slipping the book back into place.

“Don’t be like that,” Sumarr pouted. Suddenly she was behind you. “I was only having a bit of fun!”

“At _my_ _expense_ ,” you growled with a little less conviction. Her quick movements and sunny disposition had a way of disarming you. Was everyone on Asgard so damn charming? You moved over to the next shelf, doing your best to at least _appear_ like you knew what you were doing.

Sumarr still hovered. “What are you looking for?” she asked innocently.

“Nosey much?” you reply flatly.

She grinned again and you could tell she did it often. The corners of her eyes were accustomed to the gesture. “I prefer the term _helpful_ ,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest and raising her chin.

You couldn’t help it, you smiled in return. It was infectious. “I think you pronounced _annoying_ wrong,” you said with cheek.

She huffed and spun on her heel, back towards you. “Fine,” she sang, lacing her hands together behind her, “Waste your time. It doesn’t affect me one way or another.”

It was frustrating. Not only did Asgardians seem to have a natural knack for being illegally gorgeous and infectiously charming, but they seemed to always lean towards being right as well. It was if living hundreds of years made you wiser or something. Go figure.

“You know how to navigate this labyrinth?” you asked tentatively, knowing you’d be kicking yourself all night if you didn’t take the opportunity that so cheerfully presented itself to you.

Casting you a teasing smile over her shoulder, Sumarr nodded. “I spend a lot of time here,” she admitted. “Though Prince Loki is really the one you should ask. He could just conjure the book you need from thin air. No searching necessary!”

“I thought you warned me not to play with my food,” you reminded, tossing a strand of dark hair over your shoulder as you willingly played her game.

“Did I?” she responded coyly. She brought a finger to her lips and turned her gaze upwards.

“What’s your point?” you asked, “It’s not like he’s here right now.”

Sumarr turned back towards you with a raised eyebrow, loads of insinuations sparking behind the gesture. “I’m sure he’d come if you called.”

A grin to rival hers, you chuckled “I’m sure he would.”

Satisfied with the answer, the girl clapped her hands together and pointed towards you. “So,” she began, “What can I help you with? Ask me anything!”

Why not? It wouldn’t kill you to ask for assistance. You already tried the alternative and that didn’t really work out too well. “I need a book on the nine realms,” you admitted. “I’d like to know more about them.”

“Hold on,” Sumarr interrupted, raising a hand to stop you from continuing. “Aren’t you part of some special operations team or something? You’re telling me you haven’t traveled to the other realms?”

_What the Hel kind of psychic bullshit_ _–_

 “– I heard your little introduction at the start of the festival,” Sumarr rolled her eyes at your dumbfounded expression. “We all did. Or did you forget that us _servants_ were present?”

“It’s not like that!” you protested, blushing lightly from embarrassment.

Scoffing, she shifted her weight to one side and placed a hand on her hips. “Please,” she flashed you a look, “You were making eyes at Prince Loki all night.”

“I was _not_!”

Sumarr moved her gaze upwards. “Sure,” she said with a smirk. “Whatever you say.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you turned your attention back towards to books. “Most of the places we’ve traveled are outside of Yggdrasil,” you explained. “I’m looking for something specific; answers to some questions.”

Sumarr practically lit up as bright as the sun. “I love mysteries!” she exclaimed, bouncing towards you with the kind of enthusiasm that killed you a little on the inside.

“I’m not telling you,” you said flatly.

She circled around you and you could practically feel her vibrating with curiosity behind you. Leaning her head on your shoulder she looked up at you. You looked away.

“Come on!” she pouted, “You can’t act all mysterious and not expect someone to pry.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“We have lots of texts on the other branches of Yggdrasil,” Sumarr caved, gesturing to one of the tables in the room where a small tower of at least eight books high resided.

You were positive they hadn’t been there before.

“ _Best get started, darling_ ”, purred an intimately familiar velvet song.

Your eyes snapped back towards Sumarr, only to find her brilliant blue orbs replaced with pools of glittering emerald. Loki smiled up at you, grinning like a cat that had caught a canary.

The two of you held each other’s gazes, unblinking. His grin was positively deviant. When you rivaled his grin with one of your own, Loki’s smug expression dropped in an instant. Unspoken words filtered between the pair of you in those fleeting moments. He knew what would come next, but he also learned from his mistakes.

“Catch me if you can,” you winked, dissipating in an instant.

You reappeared in front of the table with your new reading list stacked high. Close to where you were a moment ago but just out of his reach.

Honestly, tricking a trickster shouldn’t be this simple.

“ _Got you_ ,” purred the Prince, hands snaking their way around your hips from behind. In an instant you were pulled backwards and onto his lap, perched on top of the table right beside your reading material. “Maybe don’t rely on the same tricks? You’re too predictable, love.”

Your eyes darted to the God of Mischief still standing where you left him, feet away from your current position. His image flickered, flashing you a seductive wink before blinking out of existence.

It was just the two of you now. Even though it had technically been just the two of you throughout the whole exchange, it somehow felt much more intimate this time around. Of course, sitting on top of a leather clad god might have something to do with that.

His hands wrapped tightly around your waist as he held you down, and you could feel that familiar scent of sulfur mixed with leather blurring your senses. “This won’t keep me, you know,” you flirted shamelessly, wiggling in his embrace and pressing your body down onto his lap purposefully.

Loki inhaled sharply at your teasing, causing him to pull you closer into his embrace. “I know,” he hissed, “But you won’t leave.”

“Why is that?” you questioned, head turning to your shoulder in order to get a better look at him.

He leaned forward, his lips nearing yours as his eyes held your gaze. “You want this,” he breathed, thrusting his hips up slightly for emphasis; the growing bulge in his pants pressing up against your ass, causing you to squirm with need. “You crave subjugation and ache for dominance. This game gets you off, battling for power –” he kissed the side of your lips, speaking against them with promises of sin, “Doesn’t it, _Eris_?”

The events of the night prior flashed before your eyes at the contact. Suddenly, you were in his bedroom, the library replaced with his private chambers; the scents and the sounds as real to you now as they were last night. It was like watching your scandal spread out for you to review, observing your bodies lost in ecstasy.

_Scratching skin –_

_Hissing obscenities –_

_Crying for release!_

_Getting that release over, and over, and over again._

He was right. You wanted ~~it~~ _him_.

He pulled his lips away, and with that movement the illusion dropped around you; leaving you in the library, on his lap, legs crossed tight, and very, _very_ wet.

“I’m right aren’t I?” he growled low, “I want to hear you say it” He pressed his hips upwards again and you winced at how unapologetically hard he was beneath you. “Say it for me,” he begged, pushing upwards again “Tell me you want me.”

_How could you deny that?_

“I’m here for research,” you wined, battling the throbbing between your legs with your slipping reason.

“We can do both,” Loki proposed, reaching over and picking up a book from the top of the stack. He set it open on your outstretched hands. “You do your reading while I –” he gripped your hips and pushed you down, biting back a moan “– I’ll do some research of my own.”

“Oh?” you let your legs spread wide, passing over his thighs and letting your heels curl around the outer sides of his boots. You leaned your head back against him. “What kind of research?”

Loki let out a husky, ragged breath as he fought the cloud of lust that consumed him. “What position best breaks your concentration, of course.”

_‘You existing breaks my concentration,’_ your mind responded flatly.

“What do you know of the nine branches of Yggdrasil?” Loki hummed in your ear, his hands gripping the sides of your hips even tighter as he fought to control his inner demons.

Your concentration was slipping and so was the book between your hands. Smirking like he had already won this game, Loki caught your falling hands and gently pressed them back into place, the book along with it.

“I know of Vanaheim,” you answered breathlessly.

“Try again,” taunted Loki, his voice velvet smooth and oh-so coy.

“And Asgard?”

“Come now, hellcat, you can do better than that”

You growled in response, annoyed more so with the throbbing between your thighs than Loki’s incessant teasing. “I’ve been to Midgard, but other than that I know more about the far reaching galaxies than I do about this _bloody space tree_ you people have dominion over.”

The Prince rolled his eyes at your display, biting back a snicker. “For operating inside this so called ‘bloody space tree’ as you so _eloquently_ put it, you seem rather uneducated in the system you call home.”

Narrowing your eyes, you turned your head to get a better look at him. His cheeky grin only fueled the fires of your rage. “So educate me,” you snapped.

Purring, Loki’s eyes drifted from your narrowed orbs to your partially parted lips and back up again. “Phrasing, Eris,” he chided playfully. “I’ll educate you, if that’s what you so desire.”

Your eyes dropped away from the Prince. It was as if the pages of the book in your hands called to you, begging you to dig a little deeper. A beautiful painting of Yggdrasil lay splayed out across both sides of the book in perfect detail. The stars illustrated twinkled before your eyes, and the colored space that made up the body of the tree slowly circulated along its wide shape like clouds drifting across the night sky.  Fascinated, you watched the picture move and breath as your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I’m serious,” you sighed, unable to tear yourself away from the image now that caught your gaze. “I just want to know where I came from.”

The grip the Prince had on your hips eased at your words. Pulling back, his eyes held that sort of faraway look only visible when the walls were down and he felt no one was looking. The weight on his shoulders grew heavy, and the Prince let his head fall forward, lightly connecting with the back of yours as he stared not at the base of your neck, but rather through it, past it and to the floor. “Some mysteries are better left unsolved,” he advised, his voice softer and barely above a whisper. “You may not like what you find on the other side.”

“Be that as it may,” you placed a hand on the shifting and living image of the book, hypnotized by the swirling of space that made up the Asgardian cosmos. “I want to know my place in all this.”

Arms again snaked their way around your waist and you felt your devil pull you closer; the sound of leather rubbing against the fine material of your dress the only noise that could be heard in that moment. He moved his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, eyes closed as he let himself bask in the raw, unguarded silence that consumed you both.

“You have your friends,” Loki offered softly enough to not disturb the peace you both found yourselves in.

The sarcastic scoff you made caused him to raise eyebrow and open one eye trained in your direction.

“They aren’t my friends” It sounded harsh, and broke the solemn quiet Loki so carefully tried to preserve. “Sure we act like it, but if the chips were down and only one of us could make it out alive, we’d kill each other trying to take that spot.”

“Why stay then?” the Prince offered, his eyes trained solely on you.

“What choice do I have?” you asked, turning your head to meet his gaze.

A soft smile played on the corners of his lips as his eyes met yours. “I was thinking of forming a harem,” Loki shrugged, “you’re welcome to apply.”

Laughter soon took the place of silence, warming the room and with it, dissipating the tension in your shoulders. Your head lulled back as you let yourself truly come alive. “I have to apply?” you finally snickered after catching your breath.

“You make a good point,” Loki pointed out before nuzzling the space along your neck. He spoke into your flesh, giving you goosebumps. His words would breathe new life into your lungs and kick start the first few cracks of your resolve. “You’ll be my prize when I win, so I suppose applying would be counterintuitive.”

 

“How touching.”

Calder. He leaned against the now open doorway of the library, his body silhouetted against the bright glow of the palace hallway behind him.

This room was so much more different than the gaudy exterior that made up the rest of the palace; so dim and rich with dark hues and the scent of parchment that it made time seem like a theoretical concept, not a fast truth. When Calder opened the door, reality and time both came flooding in with him, shattering the illusion of isolation.

In that moment you felt foolish. Curled up on Loki’s lap while he nuzzled your neck affectionately; you must have looked like the picture of domesticity.

“I hate to intrude,” Calder began.

_You were so fucked._

“We’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Eris,” Calder stepped to the side, revealing Einar lingering just outside the doorway. “There are matters we need to discuss.”

You practically launched yourself off of the Prince and scrambled to your feet, dropping the beautiful book in your haste.

Loki effortlessly caught it, eyes trained on your Captain since the moment he made his vocal introduction. They didn’t waver now, even bent at the awkward angle it took to ensure the novel didn’t collide with the floor. “Don’t let me stop you,” the Prince mused, though a challenge was most certainly laced between syllables.

Calder bowed. Einar did not.

“Your highness –” started Calder.

“– Yes?” Loki interrupted arrogantly, sliding off the table with book in hand, standing to his full height beside you.

If Calder was intimidated, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he humbly waited for his turn to speak, averting his eyes out of respect. “If I may, I need to speak with Eris alone.”

“No,” came Loki’s curt reply.

You snapped your head in his direction, eyes wide and mouth agape. Whatever it is you were expecting, it certainly wasn’t _that_.

Calder was silent, though his pleasant façade cracked only slightly. One of the corners of his lips twisted downwards in a disapproving grimace. It didn’t last for more than half a moment, but the Liesmith could pick it out in a crowded room a mile away.

The silence was enough to drown you, and still it continued.

Loki grinned wide, tilting his head upwards and looking down on your Captain who remained with his eyes trained to the ground in respect. The man knew his place and Loki reveled in it, proudly standing near you with the air of King.

From the beyond the doorway, Einar could feel the flickering emotions of the room. His face was passive; neutral just like always.

Just before you felt like you would crumble under the pressure the room was bearing down on your shoulders, Loki cackled wickedly.

“I’m kidding!” he sang; hand on his chest as he doubled over with laughter, “I’m not her keeper!” Wiping a tear from his eye, the product of his own amusement, he crossed the space of the room, shortening the distance between himself and your Captain until he was parallel with the man’s shoulders. Stopping his stride, he spoke to Calder with his eyes trained straight ahead, a dark smile pulling at his lips. His words were clipped, each syllable pronounced to their utmost, and dripping with all the venom of a serpent. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

Calder stood stock still, unmoving. His eyes were on you now.

“Be wary of the path you choose, Eris” Loki called out, still standing a breath away from your Captain. “Sometimes it’s better to believe the lie than uncover the truth. Take it from someone with experience.”

Aching for some way to break the tension, you pulled your eyes away from Calder’s whose gaze was dark with something you couldn’t recognize. “With all due respect, your highness,” your eyes found home on the back of Loki’s wide shoulders, “I’ve never been good at following the examples of others.”

Loki laughed to himself, dark and beautifully, causing his shoulders to bump Calder’s in the process. “That silly trick of yours,” he hinted, speaking as if no one but you stood in his vicinity. He didn’t care and he didn’t want you to either. “I’ve only seen that colored smoke one place before.”

“Eris –”, Calder clipped in. It was an order. Be silent.

You obeyed, eyes averting from Loki to Calder’s stern expression once again.

Loki continued, unabashed and unconcerned; _wanting you to disobey_. “One secret deserves another, don’t you think?”

Your attention fell back on the younger Prince of Asgard. “Answer me, Liesmith!” you shouted, begging him to do what he did best and _talk_.

Your Prince looked over his shoulder, trademark grin in place as he basked in his win. “Happy reading,” he winked.

And then he was gone; leaving you with one disappointed empath and one unreadable Captain.

 

The score was tied.

_Eris – 3, Loki – 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! I'm so happy to be writing it again!
> 
> As always, please feed me by providing Kudos if you enjoyed it, and comments telling me what you think!
> 
> I'll be going on a week vacation to see family, so expect another chapter after that!
> 
> xoxo - Kat


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